Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The walls shifted once more, and now the chamber was but five by two and a half yards, and the ceiling was less than four yards above him.

  He reached out and touched the marble of the wall, cold, but not freezing. As he withdrew his hand, the walls shifted once more, then again almost immediately, so that he was standing in a chamber smaller than a cell, surrounded by hard stone less than a yard away.

  He tried to reach out with his Talent, to find a way out, but he could sense nothing but stone, hard stone.

  The walls shifted again, so that he had to turn sideways. Sweat poured down his forehead. He had to get out… somehow. He had to—

  Alucius bolted upright in the wide bed in the senior officers' quarters. The sudden movement sent twinges through his aching body. Sweat was indeed streaming from his face and chest. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood slowly. He walked to the window, looking out into the darkness, but he still felt closed in. So he turned and made his way to the door. He opened it wide and stepped out into the darkness, breathing the cool air deeply.

  After several moments, he finally turned and stepped back into the quarters, closing the door gently. He walked slowly back to the bed, where he lowered himself to sit on the edge, all too aware that many of his bruises had a ways to go before they stopped aching. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he used the back of his hand to blot the cooling sweat from his forehead.

  He'd never had a dream quite like that, with the walls closing in on him, but he had to admit that in some ways, that had been how he'd felt in having to agree to the Lord-Protector's "request."

  After a time, he stood and walked around the room, still trying to cool off, still wondering what else lay behind the walled-in feeling.

  Chapter 45

  « ^ »

  The three companies left Krost Post promptly after breakfast on Londi morning, even before the post's muster. By then, most of Alucius's bruises had turned vivid shades of yellow and purple, and while the worst of the aching had subsided, he was still stiff. He hadn't had another wall dream, for which he was thankful, and he'd written out a simple command structure and selected his three lancer messengers. He'd studied the maps of the Hyalt area and made some initial plans. He'd also sent off another letter to Wendra, and he could only hope that all was going well on the stead. His wristguard showed that she was healthy, and that was good. After his meeting with the marshal, he'd also managed to obtain not only the supplies, but also a large amount of blasting powder—and the wagons and teams to carry them.

  Because he also had decided to spend part of each day riding with each of the company commanders, he was riding at the head of Twenty-eighth Company with Deotyr, at the front of the column on the high road that ran all the way to the coast in Madrien. They would turn southward in something less than a week, onto the high road to Hyalt, days before they could have reached the Coast Range, let alone Madrien.

  The midharvest sky was hazy, without actual clouds, and windless, making the morning seem warmer and dustier than it was. Still, one advantage of the eternastone roads was that there was far less dust raised, and that meant the company bringing up the rear didn't have to breathe nearly so much dust and grit as on the back roads.

  "Captain…" Alucius began, once they were settled into an easy riding rhythm, "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you and Captain Jultyr. I was wondering. Where are you from?"

  "Cersonna, sir."

  "I'm not that familiar with many of the places in Lanachrona beyond Tempre, Krost, and those along the River Vedra. Where is Cersonna?"

  "It's on the high road to Indyor, just east of where the road crosses the Vyana," replied the young dark-haired captain. "There's not much there, except for cattle and grasslands."

  "How did you come to join the Southern Guard, then?"

  "When you come from a cattle-running family, and you're the youngest of five, your choices aren't what they might be elsewhere."

  Alucius nodded. "You can't split lands and a herd that many ways."

  "The lands mostly. We're not as dry as places like Soupat or Hyalt, from what they say. A square will only graze so many head. That's over time, but if you overgraze one year, unless you're lucky to get a monsoon winter, you'll have to sell off part of the herd the next, or they'll all lose weight, maybe starve." Deotyr paused. "You're a herder, though. Isn't it the same for nightsheep?"

  "They graze quarasote, not grass, but it's like that in a way. If they don't get the better quarasote, their wool isn't as strong, and that cuts its value, but it doesn't cut the processing costs. They probably won't starve, but the herder running them might." After a moment, he asked, "What's the biggest danger to your cattle? On the steads, we're always on the lookout for sandwolves and sanders, but I've heard that there aren't many south of the Vedra."

  "No, sir. The snakes get a few, but grassdogs are the problem. They run in packs, and they can take down a straggler in moments…"

  Alucius listened, letting Deotyr enlighten him on the details of cattle-running in eastern Lanachrona.

  In time, the junior officer looked at Alucius. "Sir… they say that you've been in battles all over Corus and wounded many times…"

  "And you want to know if it's true—or how much is true?" Alucius smiled. "I started out as a scout in the Iron Valley Militia…" He tried to summarize the campaigns and the wounds quickly. "… I guess that makes something like three times where I wasn't expected to live and three other times where I had minor wounds. I've been in fights in every land west of the Spine of Corus except Ongelya." Alucius didn't include the fourth severe injury, where the soarer had nursed him back to health, or his times in Lustrea, fighting the ifrit engineer.

  Deotyr was silent, so silent that the loudest sound was that of hoofs on the eternastone road.

  Alucius decided not to push. He had almost two weeks of riding before they reached Hyalt.

  After a time, the young captain cleared his throat. "Sir… what can we expect in Hyalt?"

  "Trouble," Alucius said with an ironic laugh. "The kind that always happens when people think they're so right that they can't believe that anyone else could be right or be better at what they do." He waited a moment before he added. "Like Majer Fedosyr."

  "Majer Fedosyr? Sir…"

  "That seems so unlike a revolt? It's an example. The Northern Guard fought Lanachrona to a standstill twice. That's history. The Iron Valleys agreed to union with Lanachrona not because they were defeated in battle, but because they had no golds left to pay the militia or to purchase supplies. Because Lanachrona took over the Iron Valleys, the majer wanted to believe that the Northern Guard was somehow deficient in its training and arms skills. He could not force himself to acknowledge that it was otherwise. Because he could not, he broke every rule for a demonstration match. He even threw acid-dust at my face. People who can't judge their beliefs against what happens in the world around them, who cannot see what is… they're much like Majer Fedosyr. The True Duarchists believe that a duarchy that has not ruled in thousands of years will provide a better life for them than the Lord-Protector. Yet the Lord-Protector is one of the more enlightened and intelligent rulers in Corus. One only has to ride through other lands to see this. But the True Duarchists have yet to see this, and it is most unlikely that they will."

  "I thought folk in the Iron Valleys don't care much for the Lord-Protector."

  "Most probably don't, but they haven't seen the alternatives. There are problems in Lanachrona. There are problems everywhere, but there seem to be far fewer here than in other lands. That's one reason why we'll need to be very cautious in approaching Hyalt."

  "Because you don't think there should have been a revolt?"

  "From the few reports we have, it isn't really a revolt. It's more like a local invasion by the True Duarchists. Most of the local people had to flee, but no one else has since then. That suggests either a number of armed rebels or local support—or both. The duarchists had rifles and blades and the t
raining to use them. They struck at a time designed to take the local garrison by surprise. That doesn't sound like discontented subjects so much as someone trying to make it seem like a revolt."

  "Who would… the Regent of the Matrial, you think?"

  "That's the most likely possibility, but we won't know until we can scout out the situation." Alucius didn't want to mention the missing scouts. Not yet.

  "How do you… what do you plan?"

  "To do what they don't expect, where they do not expect it, and in ways that they don't."

  "That sounds… difficult, sir."

  "It will be. It's better than the other approaches. They're impossible."

  "Can you give us some idea… ?"

  "We won't be riding in on the high road, not for the last twenty vingts or so. We're also going to try to create doubt about the abilities of the duarchists. All kinds of doubt. If we do, that will make our job much easier." Alucius smiled politely. "I'll be going over the details with all of the officers together as we get closer to Hyalt, and some of the training exercises we'll be doing along the way are designed to work with the tactics we'll be using."

  Deotyr nodded slowly, as if at least some of what Alucius said were new to him and needed further consideration.

  That was what Alucius wanted. He shifted his weight in the saddle, a saddle that would get harder than he liked before they arrived near Hyalt, and reached for his water bottle. Early in the day as it still was, it was hotter than he would have liked. Then again, everywhere south of Dekhron was warmer than he preferred.

  Chapter 46

  « ^ »

  On Tridi midafternoon, Alucius was riding at the head of Thirty-fifth Company with Captain Jultyr. The fields on both sides of the road, beyond the wooden rail fences, held growers and their hands and families, all of whom were involved in harvesting a range of crops—from maize to some sort of beans, and a type of oilseed. They were busy enough that only a handful of youngsters even bothered to look at the passing lancers.

  "You've seen quite a bit in your time with the Guard," Alucius said. "You came up through the ranks."

  "Yes, sir." Jultyr did not quite look at Alucius, as seemed to be the case on most of the occasions when Alucius had ridden with the older captain.

  "How long did you serve with the forces against the Matrites?"

  "About four years, sir."

  "What did you think of their abilities?"

  There was a pause before Jultyr spoke. "Some were good. A company here or there was real good. Most weren't as good as we were."

  "You have any thoughts on why that might be?" Alucius found himself waiting and forcing himself to be patient while Jultyr considered his answer.

  "Couldn't say for sure, sir, but they seemed to do better on the squad level. Thought they had better squad leaders than officers. Some of their auxiliary companies were good, too." Jultyr looked to Alucius. "You think that might be so?"

  "They don't have any officers who are men. So the highest a good man can go is senior squad leader. Some of those I knew were very good. Their officers… a handful were good, but the best ones were more likely to get killed. Their strategy was generally better than either that of the Northern or Southern Guard, but their tactics and battlefield leadership weren't so good."

  "You think we have better officers and better tactics… they have better squad leaders and strategy?" questioned Jultyr.

  "Overall… probably. Both have officers who are good, and both have officers not so good, though. We know that's true in any fighting force."

  Jultyr nodded.

  "According to your record," Alucius said, "the Guard promoted you from senior squad leader to captain directly. That's not done often, I know."

  "It happens, sir."

  "I know." Alucius laughed. "I didn't expect it when it happened tome."

  "Suppose I had hoped," Jultyr said after a silence. "Never think it will happen to you. Doesn't happen often in the Southern Guard."

  "It doesn't happen that often in the Northern Guard, either. overcaptain Feran and I are about the only two officers who are still serving that I know who came up that way."

  "The overcaptain said you'd faced down the deputy commander of the Northern Guard for your men. Stood alone in front of a whole company."

  Alucius wondered where Feran had learned that, since it was something Alucius had never mentioned to anyone outside his family. "Just did what I thought was right."

  Jultyr nodded. Another silence followed.

  Alucius glanced back at the four supply wagons that followed the lancers, thinking about his conversation with Marshal Frynkel about the wagons. He wondered if he shouldn't have pressed for even more supplies.

  "You think that these duarchists have any connection with the Regent, sir?"

  "I don't know," Alucius replied, "but I'm sure that the Matrites will take advantage of them any way possible. At the very least, I'd guess their weapons are coming through Madrien. I don't see where else they could come from."

  "Could be more lancers or troopers in Hyalt than you've heard," suggested Jultyr.

  "That's why we won't be heading all the way to Hyalt. We'll take some of the back roads and circle around the town. We need to see what we can find out before we decide on a final strategy."

  "Sir… how soon in that match before you knew you were a better blade than Majer Fedosyr?"

  "I had some doubts about his ability," Alucius said slowly, "when I heard that he was opposed to using rattan wands."

  "He never meant it as a practice match."

  "No."

  "You knew that?"

  "Not for certain until I saw his sabre. Then it was pretty clear. He had it polished and the edge ground to razor sharpness. That's a duelist's blade, not a working lancer's blade. Then, I had my doubts he'd ever really been a working lancer." Alucius forced a laugh. "I haven't spent as much time in the field as you and Feran have, but I know that, and that's why I try to listen to experienced officers and squad leaders. But all the years I have spent in service have been in the field. I'm sure you notice which senior officers understand and which don't."

  For the first time, Jultyr laughed, softly and briefly. "Yes, sir."

  Alucius continued to ask gentle questions, continually reminding himself to allow the captain time to reply and not to hurry him, trying also not to say too much about his own past.

  Chapter 47

  Tempre, Lanachrona

  « ^ »

  In the indirect light of late afternoon, the three marshals sat in straight-backed chairs upholstered in deep blue and trimmed in gold. Facing them across the severe dark oak table desk was the Lord-Protector. The polished desktop was bare.

  "Why don't we know what is happening in Hyalt?" The Lord-Protector's eyes traveled from marshal to marshal, from Frynkel to Wyerl to Alyniat, before snapping back to the arms-commander.

  "We have no recent information, sir," admitted Wyerl.

  "No one has left Hyalt since the last of the traders and their families fled almost a season ago," added the blond Marshal Alyniat. "Not that we've been able to find, under the circumstances."

  "And you have sent no scouts?"

  "We sent several," Wyerl said slowly. "None of them returned. While we would have preferred to provide Majer Alucius with more information, it seemed imprudent to keep sending men to their deaths for nothing. We have few enough good scouts remaining as it is."

  "You expect me to believe that no one has left Hyalt? In a season?"

  "They have blocked the roads, sir, and fortified those points. We told you that when we discovered that had occurred. You told us not to send lancers to tear down the barricades, but to leave that to Majer Alucius." Wyerl glanced toward Frynkel.

  "Majer Alucius has yet to reach Hyalt," offered the balding marshal. "He is within a day or two of the city, I would judge." Both eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, and Frynkel pressed the side of his palm against the right one.

  "We guess… w
e judge." The Lord-Protector snorted. "We assume, but we do not know. How can we prevail when we know so little? We have no Table. Your scouts cannot tell us what is happening in our own land, and they cannot reach us with what is happening in Madrien until it is too late to do anything."

  "That is true, sir," Wyerl replied. "Very true."

  "I am supposed to rule without information? You are supposed to decide where our lancers should be when we do not know where our enemies may be or how many of them may be where?"

  "We know where the Regent's forces are," Alyniat pointed out, "and how many she brings to bear in each area."

  The Lord-Protector ignored the statement and turned to Wyerl. "When do you leave?"

  "Tomorrow, unless you wish it otherwise, sir."

  "All I wish is your success—and that of Majer Alucius—so that we may return Lanachrona to a land of not only prosperity, but peace."

  "Majer Alucius is most likely to be outnumbered, sir," Frynkel said quietly. "He could be badly overmatched."

  "Thankfully, that has not been a problem for him in the past, and we must hope that it will not be one now," Wyerl commented. "He has a very different style."

  "I do not see it as different," replied the Lord-Protector. "He fights only when he must, and then he does his best to destroy all of the enemy so that he does not have to fight them again. Had we been able to do that in Madrien, we would not now be fretting about where and when the Regent will strike."

  None of the three marshals responded, but waited for the Lord-Protector to speak again.

  After the silence had dragged out, he stood. "If you would continue to keep me informed… You may go."

  "Yes, sir." The three marshals rose as one.

  After they had left him alone in the study, the Lord-Protector turned and walked to the window gazing to the northwest at the twin green towers, a legacy of the Duarchy.

  "Have rulers always had to act knowing so little?" he mused half aloud into the empty room.

  There was no answer.