"All those," continued the Recorder, after a long silence, "have reappeared, save the scepters. For reasons best known to the ancients, there was never a record of where the scepters were placed, not one that we have been able to find, but they are not a myth, and they served a great purpose. As for the lamaial of the Legacy, he will remain concealed until the conflict begins. That is according to the words once carved in the Vault. Whether the ancients carved it as a warning or as a prediction, we cannot know. But you must hold in mind that those with Talent can become more than Talent-steers, and that is something that we—that you—must prevent."
"The Table is useless for that."
"Exactly. That is your job. Or have you forgotten?" The Recorder smiled indulgently.
"No, honored Trezun." The trader started to gnaw on his lip, then stopped and asked, "What about this new Praetor?"
"Young Tyren? You will not need to worry about him. Waleryn will shortly be dispatched to handle him. And to prepare for the next full translation."
"But you can show him in the Table?" The round-faced trader's words were formal, stiff, and barely avoided carrying a chill. After he had spoken, his face became impassive.
The Table came to life once more, with the ruby mist filling the glass, then displayed the image of a fair-haired man, barely out of youth, in shimmering silver and black, striding down a wide corridor flanked with tall goldenstone columns. A silvery nimbus surrounded him.
"The silver around him… ?"
"That shows that he could use Talent but has never called upon it."
"What is his Talent? Is it possible to tell?"
The Recorder shrugged. "The Table will not reveal what might be. We hope to avoid his discovering it until Waleryn is there to co-opt him. With the translation and Tyren, we will have two points of power and Pressure."
The trader tightened his lips as he leaned forward to study the image displayed by the Table. "Can you tell me where this is?"
"Only from what appears in the Table, Halanat. It would seem to be Alustre, but that is not certain. Still, from the columns and the color of the stone…"
"Does your Table say whether he is the hero come at last? Or whether he will claim the Dual Scepters?"
The Recorder of Deeds laughed ironically. "Every human conqueror of the past millennium has claimed to be the hero—or denied it. Some have claimed to carry the scepter, or the Dual Scepters. Others have denied the scepters even existed. In the end, it has made little difference. Claims or no claims, what will be will be."
"That is a fine sentiment for you," said the trader slowly, "but even as a trader I cannot travel all of Corus chasing rumors. If he has something he calls the scepters, that makes matters worse, because the common folk believe that the scepters have some power. Great power, not some drizzle of vision in a mirror. Even belief in the scepters grants power."
"Vision is far from a drizzle of power, as you put it. There is much yet that you do not understand, and for a mere shadow-translation, you presume greatly. As for the people, they would do the same in any case, if it appears that their ruler is indeed powerful. This Tyren could be the hero, but any conqueror could or might be." The Recorder's tone turned colder. "In any case, he is a continent away, and you are not tasked with traveling to Lustrea. Your tasks are closer. The so-called Regent of the Matrial has two of the crystal knife-throwers and is about to take back Southgate and everything north of the Dry Coast. The Lord-Protector has lost his Table and will lose more. You must complete your work in Hyalt and Dekhron before that time comes. It must come sooner rather than later." The Recorder's purple-gray eyes met the dark-rimmed orbs of the trader.
After a moment, Halanat looked away.
Chapter 15
« ^ »
Wendra and Alucius and Lucenda and Royalt sat around the kitchen table in the late twilight of an early harvest evening.
"… that both may strive to do good in the world and beyond." Alucius finished the prayer.
Wendra and Lucenda stood and dished out the mutton stew with hot biscuits. Alucius immediately took some of the fresh harvest honey from the pot.
"They never grow up," Lucenda observed to Wendra. "Put honey on the table, and they're small boys again."
"And you're never girls again?" Alucius questioned.
"Never!" replied Wendra, her eyes twinkling.
"You won't win that one, Alucius," Royalt pointed out.
Alucius smiled, silently agreeing with his grandsire.
Royalt lifted his glass of ale and took a swallow. "Tastes good after a long day."
"What did you find out from Kustyl?" asked Lucenda, looking at her father.
"Ever since Alucius had that run-in with the bravos outside of Sudon," Royalt said, "Kustyl's been listening even more carefully."
Alucius nodded. "He said he thought a trader named Halanat was behind it, except that he'd known Halanat years ago, and Halanat wasn't shrewd enough, and that meant someone was directing him. He never could come up with anything."
"And you didn't want to go back to Dekhron," Royalt pointed out.
"No, I didn't," Alucius admitted. "I still don't. That's a legacy I'd rather avoid. The place is like a bucket of tar. You put one finger in, and before you know it you're stuck. I've already had enough of my life disrupted by that sort of thing." He looked at Wendra. "And I'm not too interested in ending up where I'd be forced to put on the uniform again. Especially not now."
"What did Grandpa Kustyl have to say?" asked Wendra gently.
"He had a lot to say." Royalt laughed. "He usually does."
"He's worth listening to," added Lucenda, looking at her son. "What we do here is affected too much by Dekhron—as someone once told me."
Alucius winced inside, but merely smiled.
Wendra glanced at him, and Alucius knew she understood how he felt.
"Well…" Royalt dragged out the word. "Kustyl was telling me that the traders in Dekhron have gotten a lot smarter. You know they've been giving those barrel contracts to your father, Wendra?"
The younger woman nodded.
"That's because they went around and checked the quality and prices of every cooper within fifty vingts of Dekhron. He came out the best."
"He is the best," Wendra averred.
"That was your grandfather's point. In his whole life, he's never seen the traders in Dekhron be that smart. They always gave the business to a friend or a cousin. They've been doing the same sort of thing with the rivermen, checking out barge transport rates. But… the other thing that's scary is what happened last month. A Lanachronan cloth factor decided to open a place in Dekhron and see if he could bid into the nightsilk trade…"
Alucius had a feeling he wouldn't like what was coming.
"… just before he had the place ready, it caught fire. He died in the blaze. Kustyl started asking around, quietlike. Been five fires like that in the past year and a half."
"Sounds like the traders are getting organized and finding ways to kill people who get in their way," Alucius admitted. "But they've always put golds ahead of people's lives. That's what got us under Lanachronan rule."
Royalt shook his head. "It's not the same. They tried to run Dekhron the way they wanted, and sometimes they wasted golds doing it. They're not doing foolish things anymore, and there's another thing. They've started a cooperative wagon run to Borlan and down the high road to Krost. Maybe farther. Sharing the cost. They're bringing back Vyan Hills wines cheaper, and they're running them out to Dereka once a season."
"If they'd been that smart five years ago—" began Lucenda.
"It wouldn't have worked with the tariffs between the Iron Valleys and Lanachrona," Wendra said. "Father looked into it, because he heard the cost of barrels was so high in Borlan and Salaan. The tariffs cost more than the barrels."
"Kustyl told me one more thing," Royalt said slowly. "Several of the old-line traders—they've died in the past year. Three or them. Died in their sleep. Kustyl said it didn't fee
l right."
When a herder said something didn't feel right, he was almost always correct, Alucius knew, and Kustyl, old as he was, was certainly a herder who was no one's fool.
"Is someone trying to take over the old traders' council?" asked Lucenda.
"He doesn't know," Royalt admitted. "He just says the whole city feels strange."
Alucius's stomach tightened, but he didn't comment. All too many things were feeling strange around the Iron Valleys.
Royalt finished a large mouthful of stew before glancing at Alucius. "Lucenda said you two took the flock well east. No more creatures?"
"We didn't see or feel anything. Not a hint of anything. Haven't in more than a week. We told you that."
"You did… but we've never seen any Talent-creatures here, except soarers and sanders." Royalt frowned, then asked, "How are the shoots there?"
"They're good. Didn't see any sanders or sandwolves," Alucius replied. "We probably ought to take them there more in the next few weeks."
"Good idea, but we'd better have two of us with them." Royalt nodded. "Feel like it's going to be another dry winter. Been too many lately."
"How's the ramlet?" Alucius asked his mother.
"He's doing fine—for a lamb born six months too late to a mother who's got no milk. I'd appreciate it if you'd crush some more of the quartz in the morning, and if you could get it really fine. He can tell the difference."
"I'll take care of it," Alucius offered.
"I'll feed him in the morning," Wendra promised. "You both wanted to get to town early, didn't you?"
"That would help," Lucenda admitted. "The rest of the barrels are supposed to be ready, and that way Royalt and I could get one of them filled with flour at the mill…"
Alucius relaxed more as the conversation drifted back to the night-sheep and the stead.
Less than a glass later, after dishes had been done and the nightsheep and stables checked, Alucius closed the bedchamber door and eased off the nightsilk-covered herders' vest, slipping it into place on the clothes rack in the corner.
Wendra sat on the side of the bed and looked up at her husband. "You're worried, aren't you?"
"I am. The last time something started to look this bad, I ended up spending four years in the militia and Northern Guard."
"You didn't say much about it looking bad," she pointed out. "Not tonight. Why not?"
"You know why, dear one," he said gently. "We have Talent-creatures and soarers showing up. We haven't seen them in years, and some are the kind no one has seen before. Now… something strange is happening in Dekhron as well, a different strangeness."
"You think they're connected?"
"I feel they are, but I don't know why."
"And because you don't… you think this will all go away?" Wendra asked, again gently.
"No. Things like this don't go away. But I don't have an answer. The last time, when the Matrites invaded, at least we could see the problem. I wasn't all that smart. I was going to save the Iron Valleys and be a hero so that I'd be respected. Well… my mother was right. I was a hero of sorts, and the more I did, the more people wanted to kill me. Almost all of my time in the militia and Northern Guard was away from you. I nearly got killed at least five times, and Dysar wanted to have me executed for desertion because I didn't commit suicide after I was wounded and the Matrites captured me. I guess I'm worried, too, because I feel selfish. I'd like to be a herder, a long-lived one, and spend my life with you. I've lost interest in being a hero."
"You couldn't have had this time with me," she said quietly, "not if you hadn't done what you did. We'd all be slaves to those… ifrits…" She paused. "You think that they might be behind this… ?"
"I…" Alucius almost said that he didn't know, but there was no point in that, because Wendra's Talent would tell her that he was lying. "… I'm worried that they are." He shrugged. "I still have the feeling I should do something, but… what? Just running back to Colonel Weslyn and saying there's a problem, and throwing on a uniform… what good will that do? Besides, I'm not sure that Weslyn isn't part of the problem. He certainly wouldn't do anything to solve it, not if it might cost his trader friends any golds."
"Could you go to Dekhron with Grandpa Kustyl and look around? That might tell you something."
"It might," Alucius conceded, easing off his undertunic.
"I could go, if you—"
"No! You have to think…" He glanced at her midsection. "I'll go the next time he heads down there. I will. I promise."
"You don't…" Then she laughed. "Sometimes it's hard, isn't it?"
"When you don't want to tell the truth? And you know the other person will know you're lying?" he asked. "Yes… it can be."
She rose gracefully, stepped toward Alucius, and put a hand on each cheek, almost cradling his face. "We can't avoid the world forever, dearest."
"How about… just for tonight?" Alucius bent down and kissed her.
Chapter 16
Dekhron, Iron Valleys
« ^ »
The colonel who stood behind the wide desk had broad shoulders, blond hair that was nearly half silver, and fine wrinkles running from the corners of his eyes. Those wrinkles were especially pronounced as he looked at the gilt commission in his hands, one signed and sealed by the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona. After studying the document, he cleared his throat gently and looked up at the senior officer in the uniform of a marshal of the Southern Guard. "Sir… this is rather… expansive."
"Yes, it is. The Lord-Protector is most thorough," replied Marshal Frynkel. "He finds that there is less confusion that way, Colonel Weslyn."
"He is known for such," temporized Weslyn.
"Why don't you sit down?" suggested the marshal, gesturing to the colonel's chair and seating himself in the wooden straight-backed chair in front of the colonel's desk.
"Ah… yes, sir." The colonel laid the document on the desk before him and seated himself.
"The Lord-Protector thought that there should be no confusion, Colonel Weslyn. You have reported that you have been unable to muster more lancers or foot under the conditions set forth by the Lord-Protector, and given the parlous situation facing all of Lanachrona, the Lord-Protector thought that an inspection tour might be the best way to confirm your reports. In order to allay any suspicions by those in southern Lanachrona, you understand." The tic in Frynkel's right eye twitched.
"I understand. Especially since the union has not been that longstanding. The timing was… rather unexpected." Weslyn added quickly, "Then, there have been concerns in the north here, as well, about the use of the Northern Guard… and the costs."
"I can see that. We all bear costs in troubled times. The commission, as written, is one of those. In other times, it would not have been necessary, and the Lord-Protector would have wished it otherwise, but to send a messenger, then wait for a reply… there was not time, not when we expect a winter offensive by the Regent. That was another reason for the powers delegated to me. The Lord-Protector did not wish to have me beholden to messengers if I needed additional authority. That is why the commissions vest me fully with his authority in all matters. All matters," Frynkel repeated the last words.
"Might I ask…?" began the colonel.
"You can ask," replied the marshal with a smile. "As I have said, I am here on an inspection tour. I will be inspecting a number of posts, including this one, the staging post in Wesrigg, and perhaps those in Soulend and on the midroad. I may or may not inspect the ones farther north and west. I may or may not make decisions on postings or use of forces, and I could make some suggestions. All that depends on what I find."
"I can see that, sir."
"I am sure you can."
"You have more than an entire company with you."
"That is true. We would not wish to burden the Northern Guard."
"You are most considerate."
"We have tried not to inconvenience you. At least not any more than necessary." Frynkel smiled once
more. "That being the case, I will dispense with the formalities. To begin with, I would like to see the postings of all companies in the Northern Guard, as well as their officers."
"Now?"
"Now." Frynkel leaned back in the chair. "There are a number of matters we can discuss while you have those records gathered."
Chapter 17
« ^ »
Alucius turned ana stood at the railing of the porch, looking eastward, out over Westridge and up at the Aerial Plateau, looking so close for all that it was a good thirty vingts away. Although the shadow of twilight covered the Iron Valleys, green-tinged light flashed from the crystal escarpments of the western edge of the Plateau.
"It's beautiful," Wendra said from beside her husband, her hand covering his where it rested on the railing.
"Beautiful… and sad, in a way," reflected Alucius. "To think that there's a city up there, somewhere, almost deserted, and dying. There might even be more than one, but I'd wager that all the others are completely deserted and dead."
"You don't think it was just that city?"
"No. There was too much sadness deep within the soarer, and no reason to deceive me about that. Also, we see so few soarers, yet they're a part of history and everything else. Why else is there a soarer queen for leschec?"
"Leschec's a game. There's also a sander king, and no one ever thought sanders were smart enough for that."
"Everything else in the game has proved to be real. You've even seen them all."
Wendra tilted her head. "I haven't seen an alector." A faint smile played across her lips.
Alucius shook his head. "I'm safer when I don't make big general statements."
Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters Page 6
