Soarer's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Would a more direct Talent link work?

  He extended a link, trying to emphasize the green, but the blackish green of the web eluded his probe.

  A few more raindrops pattered down, several striking his hands and head, and another bolt of lightning flared to the south, followed by a long rumbling roar of thunder.

  It had to be possible, because he’d seen the ancients vanish. But how?

  Dainyl attempted to meld a focus on the dark green web with a more diffuse, almost misty green linkage…

  …and he found himself connected to the web and sinking through the sandstone and soil, his vision being cut off and replaced solely by Talent perception.

  This time he attempted to create a mental “map” of the locator wedges “above” him with the interlocking web that he could sense fully, even while being within one of the “strands.” Immediately, he noted that every locator wedge was situated above a point where three or more of the web strands—although they were far wider than strands—connected. Ley nodes—that was what ley nodes were.

  He located the sullen red wedge that was Soupat, but concentrated on the green node closest to that. Once more, he felt himself moving along the ley lines, until he reached the node.

  Deliberately and gently, he eased himself from the node upward.

  He emerged beside a pile of rocks. He glanced around, trying to orient himself. He was to the east of a fallen building on the low mesa that had held the RA’s complex in Soupat.

  “The ancients! Run! Run, if you value your life!”

  A spade—or some other implement—clattered against stone, and the sound of boots on stone faded away in the damp night air.

  Dainyl could sense that there had been two men. His eyes and Talent revealed an opening in the half-collapsed stone wall to his right.

  Scavengers—looking for whatever they could find in the ruins.

  He laughed softly.

  Overhead, the sky was clear. The rain that had begun to fall in Hyalt had long since left Soupat, and both Selena and Asterta shone down on Dainyl.

  Dainyl Talent-sensed the blackish green of the web below and concentrated on replicating his early effort of melding focus and diffuse linkage.

  Even more easily, he dropped into the web below.

  He started to orient himself for the return to Elcien when he became aware of a growing sense of amber-green surrounding him—and what he could only have described as pressure. It could only be the ancients.

  Should he resist? He decided against resistance, although he could not have explained why, and let himself follow the pressure toward another ley node, one of a handful that showed a golden green.

  He emerged in a chamber that was walled in amber-green stone—it had to be in one of the towers on the plateau, because he could feel his breathing was more labored, and the air was almost frigid.

  Hovering before him were three of the ancients—all looking like winged miniatures of lander women.

  You do not belong traveling the web—not as you are. It will hurt you more than you can imagine.

  Hurt him? By making him more “green” or in some other way?

  The conflict between what you were and what you will be can destroy you.

  “You’re saying that I’ll change whether I wish it or not.”

  Actions change one. Desires in conflict with actions make such change difficult. Sometimes that conflict can also kill.

  Dainyl realized he could not sense which of the ancient soarers “spoke.”

  “I need the web. If I do not use it, you will suffer as much as everyone.”

  ?????? was the response.

  “One of my…kind…wishes to start a war, one that will expend lifeforce that will weaken the entire world. Without the web, I cannot stop this.”

  Do what you think you must, but you have been warned. Go. Behind the words was a link-reminder, or something similar, that called up an image of the massive concentration of humming green Talent/lifeforce. There was also a sense of indifference to his warning that accompanied the implied threat of the concentrated green lifeforce.

  Go.

  Dainyl decided that further “discussion” was definitely unwise. For the third time, he melded focus and diffuse linkage and…

  …found himself back in the blackish green web. He concentrated, this time on the white locator for Elcien and found himself sliding into the translation tube.

  For the first time ever, within a tube, he could sense his own motion, and not the illusion of the locator moving to him. There was no barrier, not even the faintest hint of silver-white…

  …as he appeared on the Table.

  One of the guards fired his lightcutter, then a second.

  Using his shields, Dainyl deflected the bluish beams, almost absently.

  “Stop! It’s the Highest.”

  Belatedly, Dainyl could sense the greenish aura around himself, strong enough that it was visible to eyes as well as Talent-senses.

  “Sir?” Diordyn swallowed as he looked at Dainyl.

  “Some strange things are going on between Tables,” Dainyl said tiredly, trying to defuse the concerns of the assistant to the recorder. “They’re not going to get better soon, either.” He straightened. “It doesn’t help when you shoot at someone who’s trying to solve the problems.”

  “I thought…you were going to Dereka…” stammered Diordyn.

  “It doesn’t matter what you thought,” Dainyl replied tartly. “It matters what you do.” The sudden realization of the inadvertent irony of his words, echoing what the ancients had said to him, took away the edge of his anger at being a target. He focused on Diordyn. “Dereka is going to have to wait. Tell Chastyl—or leave word with him—that I’ll need to talk to him.”

  “Ah…yes, sir.”

  As Dainyl left the Table chamber, not only could he sense the continued shock within Diordyn, but he could hear the murmurs from the guards.

  “…green…”

  “…lightcutter like it wasn’t there…”

  “…why he’s the Highest…”

  After he left the Hall of Justice, Dainyl took the coach back to his dwelling. He wasn’t about to use the Table to travel to Dereka. Had he done so, Lystrana would have immediately discerned what he had in mind—and both she and Kytrana would have been mightily disturbed at the increasing amount of green that permeated his Talent.

  He stiffened on the bench seat of the coach. The attitude of the ancients gnawed at him. He’d tried to point out the dangers of lifeforce loss, and the three ancients had clearly dismissed the threat as trivial. Trivial? What were they doing that made lightcannon trivial?

  He couldn’t help shivering, but it was just the result of a long and tiring day, and the chill of a night in early winter, wasn’t it?

  83

  Dainyl did not sleep well, but forced himself to eat a hearty breakfast before he left for the Hall of Justice in the coach that he had arranged for the night before. He wore the green jacket over his official garments and carried four lightcutters, two in holsters at his belt, and two tucked inside his jacket. He still worried about the ancients’ diffidence toward him, as well as about their casually chilling warning—and the fact that the green aspect of his Talent had faded not in the slightest overnight.

  At the same time, he knew he had to do something about the deteriorating situation facing him—and all of Acorus. He’d focused too closely on Brekylt and those who followed him, assuming that Brekylt had merely wished to become Duarch of the East. That might have been acceptable, had Brekylt limited his efforts to less devastating weapons. The fact that he had not, and that neither Samist nor Khelaryt had reacted, could only mean that Samist was truly behind Brekylt and that Khelaryt felt powerless against the two.

  Even if Brekylt were not the principal cause of the deterioration, after what Dainyl had seen at Soupat, with the depletion of lifeforce by the heavier lightcannon, and the widespread distribution and use of such weapons by Brekylt and his
allies, Dainyl had to do something. He was in no position to attack Samist or Ruvryn, but at the least he could deal with Brekylt and reduce the lifeforce depletion.

  Not only did he truly fear for the future of Acorus, both for himself and Lystrana, and especially for their daughter, but he felt as though he might be about the only one who fully understood what the use of lightcannon truly meant.

  Early as it was—a good half glass before morning muster at Myrmidon headquarters—the corridors and studies beneath the Hall of Justice were empty, except for Adya’s study.

  Dainyl peered in at his chief assistant. “Good morning, Adya. Any messages?”

  Adya stared at him for a moment, then shook her head quickly. “No, Highest.”

  “I’ll be gone for a time.” With that, he headed down the corridor toward the Table chamber.

  Dainyl had barely stepped out of the entry foyer when Chastyl stepped forward. “Highest.”

  “Good morning, Chastyl. Did you get my message?”

  “Just that you wished to talk to me.”

  “Something is happening between the Tables.”

  “The energy fluctuations—”

  “No. There’s some sort of green Talent. It’s irregular, but it’s there. The ancients are massing forces, somehow.” Dainyl laughed ruefully, extended his left arm, and looked at it. “I should know.”

  “I don’t know what we can do…”

  “I don’t either, but I’d like you to get word to Myenfel and Sulerya. I’ll let Jonyst know.”

  Chastyl moistened his lips. “Is using the Tables wise…after yesterday, sir?”

  “Wise? No. Necessary, yes.” Dainyl eased past the recorder and the guards and stepped up onto the Table.

  He cleared his mind and used the melding-focus technique. After a moment, he slipped downward and…

  …through the purpleness of the translation tube into the blackish green of the web beneath. With the complexity of the web, Dainyl felt it took longer to find both the dark gray of the Alustre locator and then the ley node that corresponded to it.

  The near-distant humming of the ancients’ Talent concentration or device felt higher-pitched, but Dainyl wasn’t certain whether the frequency had shifted or his perceptions had changed. Either way, there was little enough he could do about it at the moment.

  The transport/translation was swift, but as he neared the node and locator above it, Dainyl tried to focus on breaking out well away from the Table, visualizing and extending himself…

  …to find himself in the corridor outside the Alustre Table chamber, where he quickly used his Talent to conceal his presence. He needed to do better in the future—if he could.

  One of the alector guards stationed outside the doors to the Table chamber—less than ten yards away—turned. “There’s Talent there.” He raised his voice. “Whoever it is, I’ll fire.”

  Dainyl dropped the sight concealment.

  “It’s him!”

  Both attempted to fire lightcutters.

  Dainyl brushed away the energy beams, then turned them back on the guards. Both fell.

  He just looked for a moment at the fallen pair. He’d never been able to do that before. He’d seen the ancients do it, but he’d never seen an alector do it. He hadn’t thought about killing them, not precisely, but turning their energy back. Was he becoming as callous as he felt Brekylt was? He pushed away the thought. He needed to find Brekylt, especially if the Alector of the East had put out word that Dainyl was to be killed on sight.

  He walked quickly to the stairs and then up to the next level, using sight concealment as he neared the section of the building frequented mainly by landers—and alectors of lesser Talent.

  Two landers walked out of the second doorway. Neither looked back.

  “Something’s going on,” said one.

  “No one’s talking. Not the alectors, anyway.”

  “Haven’t seen many today…”

  The two turned down a side corridor, but Dainyl kept moving, trying to remain near the center where someone was less likely to step out of a doorway and run into him, since he should be invisible to all but those with Talent.

  He knew from past experience that there was a direct set of stairs to the alectors’ level, and that it was in the middle of the building. After searching that part of the building, Dainyl used his Talent-senses to locate the back staircase to the uppermost level, and to release the Talent lock on the lower door. Shields firm, he opened the door and stepped through into a small foyer.

  The single alector guard in black and silver whirled, lifting his lightcutter.

  Dainyl dropped the sight concealment. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

  “Highest…” The guard’s eyes flicked from Dainyl to the door through which he had entered.

  “I’m looking for the Alector of the East.”

  “His study is on the next level.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t go up there…sir.”

  “I wasn’t aware that a mere senior alector could prohibit a High Alector from doing anything.” Dainyl stepped forward.

  “Stop, sir.” The guard’s finger tightened on the firing stud.

  Dainyl reached out with his Talent, shunted the energy aside. The guard paled, then stepped back. Dainyl walked past him, reaching out and taking the lightcutter and slipping it inside his jacket before he started up the narrow staircase. At the top was another door, but without a guard.

  After walking ten yards to his right in the direction of Brekylt’s formal study, his boots clicking on the silver and black marble of the corridor floor, it became clear that there were no alectors anywhere nearby. In fact, as he discovered by Talent and looking into study after study, no one at all was there.

  Dainyl hurried back along the corridor and down the stairs, noting that the guard had also vanished, and made his way under sight concealment back toward the Table chamber.

  All that remained of the two alector guards were their black and silver uniforms and their boots. That no one had checked on the guards suggested strongly that Brekylt and those closest to him had left Alustre. Even so, as he opened the door into the Table chamber, he strengthened his shields. The chamber itself was empty, but Dainyl could sense Talent concealed within the hidden recorder’s chambers.

  He moved toward the section of the stone wall that was the hidden door, extending a Talent probe to release the lock. The door slid open, revealing a younger alector in the green of a Recorder of Deeds. His face was stern, and his violet eyes hard.

  “Recorder Retyl?” asked Dainyl politely.

  “You’re not the Highest! You’re an abomination!” Retyl fired a blast of Talent.

  Dainyl deflected it and stepped forward, using his shields to block the recorder’s access to the Table. “Where is Brekylt?”

  Retyl backed away.

  Dainyl forced his shields around those of the recorder. “Where did he go?”

  “I’ll never tell you, abomination.”

  Dainyl contracted his shields more.

  The recorder swallowed, then lashed out with all his Talent, dropping his own shields.

  Dainyl was a fraction of an instant too late, and the recorder’s Talent force rebounded from Dainyl’s shields and slammed back into the recorder, who smiled in the instant before his form shattered to dust under the impact of his own powers.

  Retyl’s reply, and his actions, suggested strongly that Retyl had known where Brekylt was or had gone. That meant Brekylt had used the Table to go somewhere. The most likely destinations were either Dulka, where he had been building a force, or Ludar. Until Dainyl knew more—and could prove it—he didn’t want to travel into Ludar, and that left Dulka.

  Dainyl turned, as if to climb onto the Table, before shaking his head. He didn’t need the Table to access the deeper web. He concentrated on it, finding himself dropping…

  …simultaneously through and past the purpled translation tube down to the deeper blackish green web.
Above him, he could sense from outside the contractions of the translation tube, those seemed stronger and more frequent.

  Just how long would it be before the Archon transferred the Master Scepter?

  Dainyl caught himself. He could still end up trapped in the ancients’ web if he didn’t concentrate on the task at hand. He searched for the maroon and blue locator of Dulka, and then the green node corresponding to it.

  He flashed toward it, coming to a halt, hovering above it and below the translation tube and the locator. Carefully, trying to keep a link to the ley line, he focused on moving upward through the stone and angling in the direction that led to the RA’s study.

  Then, suddenly he could see clearly, if still linked below, and found himself in one of the redstone corridors. He nudged his way along toward the steps leading up to the RA’s complex. Ahead at the archway at the base of the stone stairs were two alector guards in black and silver shimmersilk.

  Both raised their lightcutters.

  Dainyl strengthened his shields and……found himself standing on the redstone paving of the corridor, as though reinforcing his shields had cut the link to the ley node below.

  “It’s the Highest of Justice! Pass the word! Heavier weapons!”

  The blue energy from their lightcutters flared around his shields. A second blast flared around him from behind. Dainyl had hoped to link to the ley node, but how could he when holding stronger shields cut him off?

  The guards fired again. This time, Dainyl diverted the energy back at them, boosting it with his own Talent. Both went down, sprawling on the redstone floor.

  Dainyl turned in time to see his attackers from the rear dart into a side corridor.

  Then two more guards spilled from the RA’s staircase, and one carried a riflelike device. He immediately leveled it at Dainyl and fired. A bolt of blue-green flame slammed against Dainyl’s shields with enough force to reverberate through him.

  Dainyl swung to face the new attackers, marshaling Talent force, concentrating on the light-rifle, and struggling to divert those energy bolts back at the guard who was firing it. Even as he moved forward, the second and third bolts began to fray at his shields.