“That might be wise, dearest—along with all the other caution you can manage.” She stepped toward him, then kissed him gently on the cheek. “The coach is waiting outside.”
Less than half a glass later, he was stepping out of the coach at the gates to the Myrmidon compound south of Dereka. Occasional flakes of snow swirled out of a light gray sky, but not enough to provide the thinnest layer of white on the ground. “I won’t be long.”
“We’ll be here, Highest,” replied the driver.
Dainyl turned and walked through the gates and across the stone-paved courtyard to the headquarters building. Captain Fhentyl was waiting for him in the entry foyer.
“Highest.” The captain bowed slightly. Although Fhentyl’s greeting was more than polite, Dainyl could sense a wariness behind the greeting.
“Captain. I have orders for you. They’re very simple. Fifth Company is to deploy to headquarters in Elcien and to await further orders from the marshal.”
Fhentyl nodded, and Dainyl could sense his relief.
“You’re to fly out today. If you have difficulties or weather problems, you can stop in Tempre. Seventh Company will be joining you as well. It’s possible that the Alector of the East is trying to subvert the Duarchy. He murdered Submarshal Noryan and about half of Third Company, and it appears he is supported by High Alector Ruvryn.”
“Sir?” Fhentyl was actually surprised.
So was the duty officer at the desk less than five yards away, an undercaptain who had been listening while trying not to show that she was.
“This happened late on Duadi or early on Tridi. Also, the commander of Fourth Company attempted a mutiny, but Majer Sevasya stopped that, and she’s now the acting submarshal. We don’t know how Duarch Samist sees matters, but it’s prudent to provide additional support to Duarch Khelaryt.”
“I can see that, Highest.”
“There is one other matter of which you should be aware. High Alector Ruvryn and Brekylt have been building and distributing more lightcannon, like those used in Hyalt.”
“I had wondered if we would see more of them.” Fhentyl shook his head.
“I need to be on my way, Captain. Good flying.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Dainyl turned.
Fhentyl walked back to the RA’s coach with him, through the chill and gusting winds. “Will we see you in Elcien?”
“I’ll be there, but you’ll be dealing with Marshal Alcyna.” Dainyl opened the coach door and stepped up and into the coach.
Even the intermittent snow had ceased by the time he reached the goldenstone building that held the Table. He did not see the recorder’s coach, but Jonyst was in the library.
The older alector turned and smiled. “You’re looking better than Whelyne described you, if more green and not so well as I’d prefer.”
“You’re looking whiter-haired than I’d prefer,” countered Dainyl.
“We do what we can,” replied the recorder dryly. “You should know that the tube fluctuations have not subsided. They’re slightly stronger, in fact.”
“How long do you think it will be?”
“A week, perhaps a few days less.”
A week before the Archon began the transfer? That didn’t give Dainyl much more time. “I’m headed to Tempre and then back to Elcien.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble with the Tables. Not yet.” Jonyst led the way down the stairs to the Table chamber.
Dainyl followed, then moved directly to the Table and onto it, hoping that a simple Table to Table translation would take less effort. He concentrated…
…and dropped into the purpled Talent light of the tube. For the first time, the purple felt slightly slimy, but he pushed that thought away and concentrated on the blue locator of Tempre, ignoring the still-present amber-green force of the ancients that continued to loom over both the tube and the deeper web.
He was clearly aware of his own progress, and he sensed himself moving toward Tempre, rather than having the feeling that the locator was moving toward him. He brushed through the misty silvered-blue barrier and…
…stood solidly on the Table.
Chyal looked up from at one end of the Table, flanked by two guards. He bowed immediately. “Highest.”
“Recorder.” Dainyl stepped off the Table. “Do you think I might borrow the RA’s coach for a quick trip to the Myrmidon compound and back?”
“No, sir.” A faint smile crossed the young recorder’s lips. “No one is using it. A mason’s wagon smashed it, and it is being repaired. There are several hackers there, however.”
“That will be fine. I hope no one was injured.”
“One horse was bruised and slightly cut, but no passengers or drivers.”
“Has the number of wild translations decreased recently?”
“Yes, sir. There were only two all of yesterday, and none today…so far.”
Dainyl nodded. “I should be back before long. Thank you.”
He made his way out of the chamber and out into the lower stone corridor. Once he had climbed the corner staircase to the main level, he walked to the front of the building. Both the handful of alectors and landers in the corridor nodded politely, but gave him a wide berth.
Within a quarter glass a local hacker had dropped him at the compound that had once housed the Alector’s Guard of Tempre. As Dainyl stepped out of the coach, he couldn’t help but note the clear silver-green sky—and that it was earlier than when he had left Dereka. He wondered if he’d ever really get used to traveling faster than the sun.
He was through the gates and a good third of the way across the courtyard toward the section that held the headquarters area when Lyzetta hurried across the courtyard toward him.
“Highest!”
“Captain. How are you…and Seventh Company?”
“Well, thank you, sir, and closer to full strength.”
“That’s good. Did you hear about Submarshal Noryan?”
Lyzetta’s cheerful smile faded. “Yes, sir. We got the dispatch late yesterday, about him and Sevasya. It’s hard to believe.”
Dainyl could tell that it was no surprise at all to the captain, but he merely nodded in response. “All of Seventh Company is to fly to Elcien immediately and report to the marshal.”
“Yes, sir. We can do that.”
“Brekylt has access to more lightcannon, and they’ve been used in Norda and Dulka in the last few days. Right now, we don’t know if there are others or where they are, but they’ll turn up here in the west before long. Will you have any difficulty in getting to Elcien today?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh…Fifth Company may have to overnight here tonight. They’re flying to Elcien.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Lyzetta gestured at the stone structures surrounding the courtyard. “There’s enough space for four companies here. I’ll tell the staff.” She paused. “Is there anything else we should know?”
“Only that the next few weeks will likely be very uncertain and that every Myrmidon needs to be particularly careful.” He smiled. “I’ll be returning to Elcien now.”
“You’re leaving so quickly?”
“I’ve been in Dereka, and there was no reason to send someone else to give you the orders, but I do need to get back to the Hall of Justice.”
The coach ride back to the RA’s building and the translation back to Elcien were uneventful, but by the time Dainyl sat down behind the table in his small study in the Hall of Justice his legs were slightly shaky.
He didn’t have time to think about that because Adya appeared, holding an envelope. “One of Bharyt’s assistants just delivered this, Highest.”
Dainyl took the envelope and opened it, reading it quickly. “The Duarch has invited me for a private luncheon today.”
“That could be very good or not so good, Highest.”
“Possibly both,” Dainyl suggested. “I’ll have to go to find out. Make sure the coach is standing by. Oh…will
you send a quick message to the marshal, requesting her to come here at her earliest convenience?”
Once his chief assistant had left, Dainyl closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Lystrana had definitely been right.
He actually managed to get a short semi-nap before Alcyna arrived.
“If you will pardon the observation, Highest,” she said, after settling herself into the chair across from him, “you’ve looked a great deal better than you do now.”
“That’s why you’re here. I had an…encounter with two lightcannon in Dulka and more than a few lightcutters in Alustre. Brekylt has left Alustre, and he’s not in Dulka.”
“You think he’s in Ludar?”
“That’s my best judgment, but I can’t prove it. I’ve ordered Fifth and Seventh Companies here to Elcien to report to you for further orders.”
“We’d better set up more patrols, then.”
“Some of the recorders also think that the Archon will transfer the Master Scepter within the next two weeks.”
“That explains Brekylt’s actions, then.”
“I thought so,” replied Dainyl, stifling a yawn. “I’m having lunch with the Duarch. Is there anything I should know?”
“Sevasya set up her own patrols and found a group of alectors in black and silver using a sandox team and coach to advance on Lysia. She regrets the loss of sandoxen and the coach.”
“No regrets about the alectors?” Dainyl couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his words.
“She didn’t convey any.” Alcyna gave a small laugh. “I can’t imagine why not.”
“What more should I know?”
“There have been no dispatches at all for the last two days out of Ludar, but the dispatch fliers delivering messages there say that they have observed nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Has anyone seen Ruvryn?”
“No.”
“How are the Cadmians doing?”
“Sixth Battalion has destroyed a number of the mountain nomads. Third and Fourth Battalions have had conflicts with the Squawts and Reillies and have inflicted severe casualties.”
“You know more than that,” suggested Dainyl.
“Some of my sources suggest the Reillies have taken some sort of belief-oath against the Cadmians. It’s unlikely that the Cadmians will prevail without killing virtually all the Reillies.”
“You don’t think that’s likely.”
“Not before full winter sets in.”
Dainyl nodded. If anyone could deal with the Reillies, Majer Mykel could. But…as he was learning, sometimes even great ability wasn’t enough. “Anything else?”
“Not that you don’t already know.” She paused, then said, “Try to get some rest before you meet the Duarch.”
“I will. I’ll let you get back to headquarters.”
With a nod and a brief smile, she rose and made her way from the study.
Dainyl leaned back in his chair, as much as he could with its straight back, and closed his eyes, trying to think about what he should say to the Duarch, and what he should not. He wasn’t certain how long he half thought and half dozed before there was a knock on the study door.
“Yes?” His Talent-strength had to be returning, because he could sense Adya beyond.
“The coach is waiting, Highest.”
Had he dozed that long? “I’ll be right there.” He stood and stretched. His legs did feel steadier.
He opened the door. Adya was waiting.
“Is there something I need to do before I go?” he asked.
“Oh, no, sir.”
Dainyl laughed. “You wanted to make sure the overtired High Alector did get to the coach.”
Adya blushed, the first time Dainyl had seen that.
“I’m on my way, and thank you.” He turned toward the staircase.
Outside, before he entered the coach, Dainyl looked up, absently realizing that the sky was a clear and deep silver-green—as opposed to the clouds he had left behind in Dereka.
At the Palace, the seemingly omnipresent and imperturbable Bharyt stepped forward to greet Dainyl as soon as he stepped through the archway. “This way, sir. The Duarch will be joining you in the sunroom. He often eats there.” Bharyt turned.
Dainyl walked beside the functionary. “I imagine matters have been quiet here recently.”
“For a Duarch, quiet is often as bad as overt alarm, sir.”
“Sometimes worse, I’ve found.”
“That is also possible.”
Bharyt escorted Dainyl to the very last door on the right side of the corridor, opening it and gesturing for Dainyl to enter. “The Duarch should be with you momentarily, sir.”
“Thank you.” Dainyl walked forward into the chamber, a modest room ten yards by fifteen, set to take advantage of its position on the southwest corner of the Palace. The high and wide glass windows to the south overlooked a courtyard garden and offered a vista across the shore park to the Bay of Ludel. The west windows overlooked the same garden, but beyond the walls stretched the western section of Elcien, dwellings and buildings interspersed with trees, none high enough to block the sweeping view of the city.
Next to the south window, a table was set for two, with china and crystal and pale green linens and napkins. On a side table were several bottles of wine.
“Greetings, Dainyl.”
Dainyl turned at the warm and hearty words of the Duarch, who had entered by a side door. “Greetings, sir.” He bowed his head momentarily.
“We might as well sit.” Khelaryt gestured to the chair at the table that faced east, while taking the one that faced west.
As Dainyl seated himself, a steward in pale green appeared, who immediately poured a colorless wine into the goblets.
“It’s a Vyan Alte…very subdued but full,” said the Duarch, lifting his goblet.
Dainyl lifted his.
They drank, and Dainyl had to agree with the Duarch’s assessment.
“The Vyan Alte is somewhat like you,” Khelaryt said, setting his goblet on the table. “There’s a great deal more there than is immediately apparent.”
“Should I be flattered or concerned by that comparison, sir?”
“Perhaps you should tell me.” Khelaryt leaned back slightly as the steward reappeared and eased a small plate before him, then another before Dainyl. On it were three thin circular slices of something white with the slightest hint of tan. “These are hearts of bosquite. One of the few delicacies from the Dry Coast.” He speared one and ate it slowly.
Dainyl followed his example. The bosquite combined fruity and nutty tastes, albeit with the crunchiness of a not-quite-ripe melon rind. That could have been why the slices were cut so thin.
“I saw Captain Lyzetta recently.” Dainyl decided against being too specific. “She is a good commander, not that I would expect otherwise.”
“I’m happy to hear that, and I appreciate your letting me know.” Khelaryt sipped his wine. “You have been absent in recent days, Dainyl, and I have heard some disturbing news.”
“You should have, sir. The High Alector of Engineering has been building and distributing more lightcannon since I last mentioned this to you. The Alector of the East and most of his close supporters have left Alustre.” Dainyl finished the appetizer.
The steward replaced the plates with small and delicate cups of steaming soup.
Khelaryt picked up the cup in a hand that dwarfed the delicate porcelain and sipped the soup.
Dainyl enjoyed the seed-gourd bisque far more than the bosquite.
“I assume you have responded to these events. Exactly how, might I ask?”
How? Besides nearly getting myself killed? “I personally destroyed at least one lightcannon in Dulka and removed the Recorder of Deeds in Alustre after he admitted his support of Brekylt against you. Majer Sevasya is now acting submarshal of the Myrmidons and has both Fourth and Sixth Companies firmly under her control in Lysia. Both Fifth and Seventh Companies are already flying here to reinforce
First Company.”
“You did not inform me of these?”
“I was somewhat injured, Highest, and only returned from my efforts this morning. Had I not been invited here, you would have had a request for me to brief you by now.”
“How did you like the bisque?”
“Very much,” replied Dainyl.
“It’s one of my favorites.” Khelaryt paused as the steward removed the cups and placed a plate before each alector, each holding a juvenile oarfish glazed with lemon-citron. Then he cut a section of the fish with his fork and ate it, clearly savoring the oarfish.
Dainyl took a smaller bite. The glaze was excellent, mellow and tangy simultaneously, but he’d had more than enough fish in his tour at Sinjin, although that had been decades earlier.
“Duarch Samist has sent a dispatch saying that unfriendly forces had destroyed a large section of the RA’s complex in Dulka,” Khelaryt said mildly, “and asking if I knew anything about it. How would you suggest I respond?”
Dainyl ate another small bite of oarfish before speaking. “You could reply that the forces were only unfriendly to those who oppose the continuation of the Duarchy as it is now constituted, and that the destruction was the result of the explosion of a lightcannon employed against those loyal to you and the Duarchy.”
Khelaryt laughed. “That is true…if not exactly in the fashion that Samist would appreciate.” After his last bite of oarfish, he asked, “Were there other lightcannon in Dulka?”
Dainyl finished his own fish before replying. “I would judge so, although I was forced to withdraw before confirming that.”
“You…withdraw?”
“Some lightcannon are too powerful for the most powerful of alectors, and I am not one of them.”
“If you are not, I would wish to know who such individuals might be.”
“You, sir, are clearly one.”
“You’re sounding like Zelyert, Dainyl.”
“I would not wish to do so, but you are the most powerful of alectors that I know.”
The steward removed the fish plates, replacing them with larger platters holding chiafra—mint-minced beef mixed with creamed white cheese and parsley, rolled in thin pastry tubes and covered with an almond sauce—accompanied by spears of something green and jellied-looking. Then he replaced the goblets and poured a maroon-reddish wine into each new goblet.
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