Dainyl could tell that the young alector did not exactly agree. Like many of the assistants to High Alectors, Patrylon believed that knowledge and Talent would suffice in any situation. The two certainly granted an alector an advantage, but if Dainyl had not been through his experiences with the ancients, he would have died at least twice already. He wasn’t about to mention those, but most of the High Alectors had the same mind-set as Patrylon, and the only real experience they had was in maneuvering around the Palaces of the Duarches, the Hall of Justice, and the Engineering Hall. Sometimes, he wondered if he had that much more, but whatever he had was greater than the others, and certainly more recent.
“Will you be receiving petitions on Duadi, sir?”
“I assume so, but anything could happen between now and then.” Especially since his orders to Noryan should have arrived on Londi—if they arrived. If they didn’t, that would also create problems, if of a different nature.
When they reached the lower corridor, Dainyl said, “I need to see the recorder. You’ll take care of sending the changes in those decisions to the affected alectors?”
“Yes, sir.”
Leaving Patrylon, Dainyl slipped into the Table chamber.
Chastyl hurried over. “Yes, sir?”
“I noted something yesterday morning, just before we heard petitions. It might have been connected with the Table. Did anything unusual happen?”
The recorder frowned. “There was something. It was like a Talent wave in the translation tubes, but it was momentary, and none of the other recorders have reported anything.”
“I wondered.”
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“The arrangement with the Table in Blackstear?”
Dainyl thought for a moment. “It will have to remain as it is. The Myrmidons don’t have enough pteridons to ferry guards up there, and there’s no other way to get them there in winter. I’ll keep reviewing that, though, and I appreciate your bringing it up.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Chastyl.” Dainyl offered a smile before slipping out through the small foyer and returning to the small private study. He left the door ajar and sat down behind the table desk.
He needed to consider exactly what issues he wished to bring up with Chembryt…and how. He also needed to convey, indirectly and firmly, that he stood behind Khelaryt. Dainyl wasn’t that supportive of Khelaryt’s views on the Cadmians, but given what Dainyl had seen of Brekylt and his methods, and Ruvryn, he didn’t have any alternative to backing Khelaryt.
Less than a glass later, he was in the coach—his official coach as the High Alector of Justice—on his way to the Palace to meet with Chembryt.
The coach came to a stop at the lower level of the north wing of the Palace. Dainyl stepped out, feeling almost underground with the columns and stone rising above him into the upper levels. He walked through the columns to the lower archway, past the two guards with their jagged shortswords, rather than lightcutters—a clear sign that the lower level was not considered as vital as other levels of the Palace. While they stiffened as he walked past, their inspection and interest was clearly cursory.
Chembryt’s study was in the northeast corner, and a single assistant sat in the outer study.
“Highest…he is expecting you.” The eyes of the young alectress remained slightly downcast as she stepped toward the paneled golden oak door and opened it.
“Thank you,” murmured Dainyl as he stepped past her, maintaining his shields, as had gotten to be a firm habit after the events of the past year.
She closed the door behind him. Unlike Khelaryt’s study door, it did not click warningly, but his boot heels did echo on the stretch of green and gold marble floor between the door and the thick green carpet.
The study was larger than the one Dainyl now had at the Hall of Justice, but by only a third. The walls were paneled in golden oak, and rich deep blue hangings, trimmed in crimson, framed the single window. The oblong table desk was also oak, and clear of all papers, with two oak armchairs on one side and one between it and the wall. On the paneled wall above and behind the single chair was a painting of the Palace, a good two yards in width and little more than half that in height, showing it from the north, as it might have appeared in spring years before. Under the window was a single bookcase, filled to over-flowing with ledgers. The one window looked out into a small courtyard that held little more than a white marble table and bench, and a raised green marble planter three yards in length and less than one in width, holding low plants with fading gold blossoms.
Chembryt stood before the table desk, to the side of the chair nearest the window. He inclined his head in welcome.
“I appreciate your taking the time to see me,” offered Dainyl.
“You do me the honor of calling on me, and it is always an honor to receive the High Alector of Justice.”
“It’s equally an honor to be received by the High Alector of Finance,” replied Dainyl.
Chembryt gestured to the chairs in front of the table desk, then seated himself in one.
Dainyl took the other, turning it slightly so that he could look directly at the older High Alector.
“If I might note,” began Chembryt cautiously, “your Talent and shields bear a certain tinge. Green, I believe.”
“Unhappily, yes,” agreed Dainyl. “You might call that a combat injury. It occurred in the Hyalt operation last harvest…” He went on to explain how Rhelyn had used the ancients’ Talent weapon against him, finally concluding, “I had hoped the effect would fade, and at times it has seemed to, but then it returns. The Duarches are both aware of it, and it has not seemed to trouble them.”
“It does give you a dangerous aura, and that is not all unwelcome for the High Alector of Justice, not in these days and times. I had heard you have been receiving petitions…”
“I have. Necessary and informative as it is, it is also discouraging to see the pettiness behind so many of them.”
“The steers can be petty, and many are.” Chembryt laughed. “If we’re being honest, though, I’d have to say that so are some alectors.”
“But it’s usually not over golds.”
“No. That’s true. It’s more likely to be over who controls what resources or what land.”
“That sounds very familiar,” suggested Dainyl. “That was what happened last year in Coren and in a few other places.”
“It will be a growing problem in years to come as there are more and more steers, and more alectors. They only think of golds, and we want matters our way and tend not to think of why they think of golds.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“They have so many children. How could they not think of golds? They must feed and clothe them, teach and train them.” Abruptly, Chembryt shook his head. “I must confess that I miss your wife, not that I begrudge her the fortune and recognition of being regional alector. She was the best chief assistant I ever had. That’s saying quite a bit, you know.”
Dainyl smiled. “I’ve known for many years that she was extraordinarily capable.”
“Everyone thought that the only reason you became operations chief for the Myrmidons was because Shastylt wanted whatever information she might pass to you—and because you could rely on her.”
“I’ve always been able to rely on her,” replied Dainyl. “Her judgment is excellent.”
“That may well be, Dainyl, but it is clear from even casual observation that you have more Talent-strength than did either Shastylt or Zelyert. Yet neither of them recognized that. Nor did I when you appeared before the High Alectors not that long ago. Now, even behind shields, you approach Khelaryt in strength.”
“Lystrana counseled me early to develop shields first, and I did.” Dainyl shrugged. “I found it useful.” He paused. “There is no way…I would not wish to be presumptuous or ingenuous…but I have no interest in becoming Duarch. I have even less interest in having Khelaryt replaced, or in seei
ng more power in the hands of Samist or Brekylt.”
“I had wondered…”
“Wonder no more.” Dainyl laughed. “I’m a Myrmidon, and I prefer to avoid indirection in all its forms. Lystrana could tell you that, if she has not already.”
“She has mentioned that.” Chembryt pursed his lips. “How did you manage for Lystrana to be appointed regional alector?”
“I asked. I actually asked for her to become regional alector in Tempre, but she was offered Dereka. The choice was hers.”
“So she said.”
“I could not ask her to do that which was not in her interest and nature.”
“I can see that.”
There was a silence.
“What information might I provide?” Chembryt’s eyes held a twinkle. “That you have not already discovered?”
“How did Ruvryn manage to conceal the diversion of enough golds to produce over five thousand Cadmian rifles to ship to indigens and landers across the western half of Corus?”
Chembryt pulled at his chin. “You phrased that inquiry in a rather interesting fashion, and one that supposes that such rifles were in fact produced and diverted.”
Dainyl laughed. “I’ve already documented over three thousand. Ruvryn has avoided any direct answer, and it appears that neither Shastylt nor Zelyert wished to dwell on the matter. At least, I never received a satisfactory explanation. Why, I cannot say, but the fact of the production and diversion is not up for question. Nor is the production of a number of portable weapons based on road-building equipment that were used against Myrmidons by Regional Alector Rhelyn. Both of those bring up the question of how such enterprises were paid for.”
“Simply put, the funds were requested for other purposes, in a number of accounts that had been inflated for years. When we discovered the irregularities, we originally supposed that the diversions had gone entirely into the heavier lightcutting weapons, especially after the unfortunate events involving Zestafyn. Until she was given some clues, even Lystrana could not deduce what was occurring, and then only after looking at the internal records of the High Alector of Engineering.”
“Was Zestafyn only what he was supposed to be?”
Chembryt smiled. “That is another interesting question. You might wish to clarify it.”
“I have the feeling that he was more. Otherwise his wife would not have been able to kill herself with a weapon she did not have, supposedly in sorrow over his death, but in fact even before she could have known about it.”
“It is rumored that she was not unfamiliar with those connected to the Archon, but there was never any proof. I assume that is what you were asking.”
“I said I was poor at indirection,” Dainyl replied with a laugh.
“What else would you like to know?”
“I think you have been more than kind,” Dainyl said, “and I will save other inquiries for the time when I know enough to ask.” That was more true than Chembryt would have guessed, Dainyl judged, and he did not wish to admit too much ignorance, nor to press at the moment. “I thank you for your kindness.”
“And I appreciate your forthrightness. Khelaryt is fortunate, indeed.”
“I’m fortunate that he is Duarch.”
“We both are.” Chembryt rose.
Dainyl stood, and the two High Alectors laughed.
72
Since he did not have to receive petitions on Octdi, Dainyl spent the first few glasses of the morning going over the master ledgers of the High Alector of Justice. He learned little, except that the golds allotted to the Cadmian Mounted Rifle Regiments had been decreased each year for the past three years. There was a discretionary account for the High Alector of five thousand golds, but no details on the expenditures. On what had Zelyert spent five thousand golds every year? Or had he?
He finally summoned Adya and had her sit down at the table in his private study.
“The High Alector’s discretionary account—on what are those funds spent?”
“The Highest is only accountable to the Duarches for such a discretionary account.”
That told Dainyl less than nothing, since any of the High Alectors were accountable only to the Duarch to whom they reported. “Are there any records of that account?”
“I do not know, sir. Luftyne would be the only one who could answer that.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the study door.
“The Marshal of Myrmidons is here, sir,” offered Patrylon.
“Have her come in.” Dainyl stood and looked at Adya. “We’ll finish this after I talk to the marshal—and bring Luftyne.”
“Yes, sir.”
Behind the pleasant tone, she was worried. That, Dainyl could sense, but not why.
Alcyna stepped into the small study and inclined her head. “Highest…”
“You can close the door.” Dainyl gestured to the chairs.
Alcyna took one. “This is a very modest study.”
“Your study has a far better view,” he replied with a smile. “I assume there’s a problem, since you hurried here.”
“Yes, sir. We got a message from the Cadmian commander in Iron Stem. It was addressed to you as Marshal of Myrmidons. I took the liberty of opening it.” Alcyna placed the dispatch on the table. “There was an earthquake and a flood. The dam west of Iron Stem burst, and the ironworks has been almost totally destroyed. Nothing else was severely damaged.”
“The ancients,” said Dainyl.
“How can you surmise that? He never mentioned them.”
“An earthquake and a flood that destroy only the ironworks? In one of the towns closest to the Aerlal Plateau, where there have been increasingly frequent reports of the ancients’ creatures? When Ruvryn has been pressing for production of more iron and copper?” Dainyl frowned. “You better send a dispatch to both Duarches and to Ruvryn…if you haven’t already. Just the facts, and nothing about the ancients…but note that it is unusual for damage to be so severe in one area while yards away there was little.”
“I left Zernylta to draft them while I briefed you. I’ll add that observation.”
“Ruvryn will try to blame us, either for lack of timely warning or for being the cause of the problem. It might be best if you told him you were sending the message on the chance that he had not already heard from his engineers. Oh…if you have not already considered it, send a note thanking Majer Mykel for his thoughtfulness in keeping you informed.”
“I had thought to do so.” She frowned. “I cannot say I have ever seen a Cadmian dispatch directly to the Myrmidons, even a copied dispatch.”
“He is the only Cadmian officer I know who ever has.”
“Trusting a Cadmian can be dangerous, sir.”
“No more dangerous than trusting Samist or Brekylt. Besides, receiving and encouraging information is not quite the same as trusting.”
Alcyna nodded, if dubiously.
“Have you heard anything from Submarshal Noryan?”
“No, sir. But it is not likely that he would have received your orders yet.”
That was all too true, and there was little to be done there until Dainyl knew how Noryan would react. Or Josaryk, for that matter, still in Lysia, presumably.
“What do you recommend we do about Iron Stem?” asked Dainyl.
“Send two pteridons from Tempre on a reconnaissance.”
Dainyl nodded. “Also have them check the Vedra at Dekhron. Is there anything else?”
“When will you release the Myrmidons from duty in Blackstear?”
“Whenever you can spare enough pteridons for two or three days to ferry five or six alector guards up there—assuming we can find any.”
“I can spare two trainees more than the squad of Myrmidons. Can you find three more guards, sir? If so, we can ferry them up in the morning, weather permitting. At dawn.”
“Plan on it, then. I’ll talk to Chastyl.” Dainyl smiled. “Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment, sir.” Alcyna
returned the smile.
Once Alcyna left, Dainyl walked to the Table chamber looking for Chastyl, but only Diordyn, his assistant, was there.
“When he returns, tell the recorder I need a moment with him.”
“Yes, sir.”
He returned to his study, only to find Adya standing in the corridor with a wiry alectress who carried two ledgers, one heavy and thick, and the other slim. From the dark purple of her aura, Dainyl judged she was possibly the oldest assistant serving the High Alector of Justice.
“This is Luftyne, sir,” said Adya.
“Highest.” Luftyne bowed.
“‘Sir’ will do.” Dainyl closed the door and walked to the table, seating himself and waiting for them to sit down.
“How might I serve you?”
“There is a discretionary account of some five thousand golds…” Dainyl waited.
“That is the amount for the year, Highest. At the moment, the balance is slightly over five hundred. That is not unusual, since it is so close to the end of the financial year.”
“Is it possible to determine where the golds in the account went?”
“That depends. If you as High Alector draw the golds personally, the ledgers will only show that the golds were paid to you. If you transfer funds to another account in Justice, say to the Marshal of Myrmidons, then the ledgers would show that.”
“I’d like to see the records for that account for the past few years.”
“Yes, Highest.” Luftyne glanced to Adya. “According to the Code of Accounts set forth by the Duarches, discretionary accounts may only be reviewed by the chief of accounts, the High Alector who has control of the account, and the Duarch to whom that High Alector reports.”
“By your leave?” offered Adya.
“By my leave,” Dainyl replied.
Only when the study door had closed behind Adya did Luftyne open the smaller ledger and set it before Dainyl. “Did you wish me to explain from the beginning of this year?”
“First, let me ask something. Could I spend all the golds in this account on myself?”
“Yes, sir. As High Alector, you receive two thousand golds a year. For a High Alector, that is often insufficient, particularly if one must host the Duarches often.”
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