Once across the ancient eternastone bridge, the four continued past the lane just on the south side of the bridge, the lane that led to the Southern Guard fort.
When Alucius passed the lane, a good half vingt behind Tarolt, he looked to his left at the dilapidated and abandoned fort. As he continued through Salaan, he glanced at the narrow-windowed houses. It seemed to him that every time he passed through, they looked even poorer than the time before, and certainly more run-down than the first time he had been there more than two years earlier, on his way home from Tempre and his previous encounter with the ifrit-possessed Recorder of Deeds.
Slightly farther southward, Tarolt turned west on a road almost as wide as the eternastone highway but constructed of winter-hardened clay that led, as Alucius recalled, to the bluff on the south side of the river that held the few traders' dwellings in Salaan.
After more than a vingt, the riders turned left, down a lane that split a stand of apricot trees, toward a low ridge south of the sprawling orchard. Alucius hung back even farther before following.
When he finally reached the southernmost part of the orchard, he reined up the chestnut beside one of the last apricot trees and looked ahead. Less than a hundred yards away, at the end of the lane, he could make out a squat stone building set on the lowest point of the saddle between two modest ridges. Snow had drifted against the north side of the building in places, and the limestone blocks took on a greater purplish hue with each moment that Alucius studied them. To the northwest were a stable and an outbuilding, both of timber and plank.
As he watched, with eyes and Talent, another figure stepped from the stone building to greet the four riders. Tarolt made an abrupt gesture, and the group split, the two ifrits and the one who had greeted them going into the squat building, the guards waiting with the mounts. Alucius could sense that at least two of the lifethreads were anchored within the structure. That meant that the building most certainly held a Table. But the structure was relatively new. Were the ifrits constructing more Tables? Was there one in the north through which Wendra had been taken or captured?
Since he had no answers, Alucius continued to watch.
A single stable boy or ostler appeared, and the guards followed him with all the mounts, taking them into the long, shedlike stable. After a time, the three left the stable and entered the other outbuilding. Before long, the dusty open space before the stone building looked deserted, with neither grooms nor guards.
Alucius shifted his weight in the saddle. There were at least five men there, and at least two were ifrits—and the ifrits were in a building that most likely housed a new Table.
Now… what was he going to do?
Chapter 124
Salaan, Lanachrona
« ^ »
The three figures sat around a circular table in the anteroom off the Table chamber. Despite the chill radiating from the north-facing walls, the penetrating heat from the stove set against the outside wall made the room more than pleasantly warm. A decanter of wine on a silver tray was equidistant from the crystal goblets set before Tarolt and the Recorder, and a tray of cheeses and fruit rested in the precise center of the table. Sensat sat beside Tarolt, also with a goblet before him.
"The herder-colonel is somewhere nearby. I can sense him," Tarolt said mildly, pausing to take another small swallow of the red wine. "He was watching the house on the point, and then he followed us."
"You let him?" asked Sensat. "He could have shot at us. He could have injured someone, or killed one of the guards."
"Let him? I tried to project enough vulnerability that he would follow us. Besides, had he decided to attack, he would have waited until nightfall and slipped into the compound. He wanted to know where we were going. And why, I would judge. Curiosity is a fatal flaw with most Talent-steers."
"He may be more than that," suggested the Recorder.
"That is hardly likely, my dear Trezun," replied Tarolt.
"Are you sure it is the colonel? Could it not be an ancient one? Their threads are also green." The Recorder set his goblet on the polished wood.
"The ancient ones seldom come this far south. But… does it matter? We must deal with both, and we have the means to do so… now."
Both Sensat and Tarolt smiled; the Recorder did not.
"Have you determined whether any of the inactive Tables can be reactivated?" asked Tarolt several moments later.
"The one in Blackstear is in perfect condition. It will take but one translation from here or another Table."
"That one has little use except to strengthen the node grid. What else?" inquired Tarolt.
"The Table in Soupat will require someone to travel there physically, but its repair will be relatively quick."
"Could we not try a translation to it?" asked Sensat.
Trezun shrugged. "We could, but that is risky to whoever is being translated. Would you like to try a translation there?"
"Ah… we could arrange for a trading trip there," mused Sensat. "Sometime."
"I hesitate to send an Efran when we're still so hard-pressed." Trezun frowned, his fingers stroking the crystal stem of the goblet before him. "Especially with Waleryn being alone in Norda without a fully working Table."
"I thought he had the Table in Norda working," Tarolt said.
"He can communicate, but not translate," Trezun explained. "The cold affected some of the crystals. It will be a few more days, he says."
"You see?" asked Tarolt. "He is working with all the resources of Lustrea behind him, and it may be almost a year to reactivate one Table and reconstruct another. That is why I asked about the inactive Tables. How else can we build a fully functioning node grid quickly? Even if it takes half a season, that will be far less time than building a Table from nothing at another nodal matrix. And that does not count travel time." Tarolt glanced toward the window on the north side of the room.
"But the Soupat Table, like the one in Blackstear, is useful only in supporting the strength of the entire grid," observed Trezun.
"We will need all the strength that we can build," replied Tarolt. "Remember… there are twenty-three thousand Efrans who expect to make the long translation…"
"The population here is not large enough to support that many," murmured Sensat. "Not without tapping the world itself."
"The fieldmasters know already that the support limit is between five and seven thousand," replied Tarolt. "So you can count yourself lucky that you are already here."
Trezun nodded politely. "Whatever the number, we will be ready."
"Why is it that those Tables that are the easiest to reestablish are the most remote?" Sensat snorted, going on before the other two could reply, "I know. That is precisely why. They are so remote that no one suspected they were there, or that they retained power."
"Exactly," agreed Trezun with a laugh.
"Now that the Table in Prosp is operating, if Waleryn can reconstruct a Table in Norda, and we can send someone to repower the one in Soupat, we could rebuild the Table in Dereka, could we not?" Sensat looked to Trezun. "The location still retains enough energy and identification to be a portal, even if it is not so powerful as the one at Hieron."
"The portal in Hieron is an anomaly. Only a fully translated Efran can use it, as you know, and most infrequently. We cannot spend the effort and energy on portals, not when we need Tables."
"We need to make deliberate haste, then," added Sensat.
"Deliberate haste? That has been the watchword for years."
"We have less time than we thought," Tarolt replied. "Fieldmaster Lasylt has calculated that the translation tubes will endure no more than another five years at most. That is when the nebular field webs will reach the underspace clear-lines linking Efra to Acorus."
"Another curse upon the ancient ones," muttered Trezun.
"We were fortunate that they were not stronger," Tarolt said. "At least their barriers have been weakened enough that we can resume our work. Would that our brethren on Efra
truly understood the urgency."
"They fear leaving the warmth and comfort of Efra, and they do not wish to be the ones to deal with the cold and the crudeness of Acorus," Trezun observed.
"Let someone else make the sacrifices," Tarolt snorted. "That's how they feel. We have, and we will reap the benefits."
"What about the tubes to Ejernyt?" asked Sensat.
"Twenty years at best," interjected Trezun. "Ejernyt will not be ready for colonization for at least a hundred years, but we can continue that effort from here on Acorus."
"That means finding and removing the ancient ones," Sensat said.
"And their tools—like the colonel outside," suggested Tarolt, smiling coolly.
"What do you suggest?" inquired Trezun.
"He has a curiosity about Tables. We should let him see a fully functioning one—one with a single translation tube directed to Soupat." The white-haired ifrit trader laughed. "That will solve two problems."
The other two nodded. After a moment, a crooked smile crossed the lips of the Recorder.
Chapter 125
« ^ »
Alucius had tied the chestnut to one of the trees farther back in the apricot orchard, taken his topmost rifle, and eased forward from tree to tree until he stood just behind one of the trees closest to the stone building and the surrounding outbuildings. While he studied the stone building for close to half a glass, he saw no one outside, and it did not appear that anyone would be leaving.
He didn't like the idea of approaching the Table building, not with the ifrits within, but perhaps he could learn something from the outbuildings and even overhear what the guards and the ostler might be saying. He could wait forever, but if there were ifrits holding Wendra, he dared not wait long. They might try to possess her the way they had Halanat and the Recorder of Deeds in Tempre. He'd tried not to think about that, but he couldn't avoid it, not after what he had seen in the last few glasses.
He waited a bit longer, then slipped westward from tree to tree, careful not to step in the patches of snow, until he was directly opposite the stable. From where he now stood, even the apricot tree behind which he had placed himself could not be seen from the stone building, shielded as it was by the stable and another outbuilding.
He took a deep breath, then concentrated, pressing the darkness of lifeforce into the five cartridges in the magazine of the rifle. He did not try that with the fifteen cartridges in the leather loops of his heavy belt. With his sabre at his side and the heavy rifle in his hand, he hurried across the winter-flattened brown grasses of the meadow toward the stable. The back of the stable had no windows—just a blank timber wall that had been painted within the last year. So long as no one left any of the other buildings, he would be out of view.
Once close to the stable wall, he listened, but could hear nothing as he made his way westward. When he reached the end of the stable, he turned the corner and darted along the side wall, then across the open ground to the rear of the next building, one that looked almost like a barracks, with high windows. He kept close to the planked wall, moving back eastward until he was underneath a high window, open but a narrow crack.
When he could hear voices, he paused to listen, trying to sort out the words.
"… how long, you figure?"
"… could be a couple of glasses… less once in a while…"
"What do they do in there?"
"… can't say as I know. Mostly talk. Don't talk like most folk, either… use words no one else does."
"Like Madrien or nomad?"
"Not like that. They'll be talking just like us, and then they use strange words. Sound normal, but they're not."
"Like what?"
"How would I know? They're strange. Take my word for it."
There was a round of laughter.
"… spend most your time with the horses…"
"They're better company… that Trezun… something odd about him… now… the mare… like to get her bred to Durwad's stallion… foal'd be something… said that to Trezun… told me breeding was important in everything… be especially important in years to come… laughed when he said it. Didn't seem funny to me…"
"… that girl… Kara… she ever come back?"
Alucius continued to listen, but the guards and ostler kept talking about horses and women, and finally he edged to the corner of the building, where he chanced a glance at the limestone structure that his Talent-senses told him had to house the Table—or something like it. The building was as much dug into the low hills as built upon them, so much so that the rear wall of the structure rose out of the hill and the roof tiles at the rear were but a yard or so above the hill. From what he'd learned in Tempre, that confirmed his belief that the structure held a Table.
He watched for a time, with intermittent glances around the corner. Almost half a glass later, as the sun touched the western horizon, the door to the Table building opened, and Tarolt and two other ifrits walked outside. They turned onto a path that angled northwest, in front of the outbuildings, and in the direction of the River Vedra.
While he wondered where they were going and why in the evening chill, Alucius waited until the three were a good hundred yards from the Table building before he concentrated on making himself seem like only a vagrant breeze before he stepped from behind the outbuilding and walked quickly southward.
There were no yells or shouts, and none of the ifrits even turned.
When Alucius opened the door to the Table building and stepped inside, he could sense the presence of a Table, one seemingly more powerful than either of those he had encountered before. Rifle in hand, he glanced around the entry hall. The foyer was hexagonal—and empty—with two double doors leading from it.
Both doors were wide-open, and Alucius stepped through the archway to the right, which led into a conference room. A tray with a few small wedges of cheese and half an apple remained in the center of the table, and to one side was a crystal decanter half-filled with a red wine. There were three empty crystal goblets on the table, and warmth flowed from the stove against the wall, but Alucius could discern no one nearby. The sense of the Table was far stronger, clearly emanating from beyond the archway on the far side of the room. On the walls were light-torches, and not ancient remnants of the Duarchy, but ones recently fabricated. The sight of them chilled Alucius.
He eased around the conference table and toward the archway, totally alert, but he neither heard nor sensed anyone. As he stepped through the archway, Alucius found himself in another small foyer, with a staircase headed downward. At the foot of the staircase, he could see a door, slightly ajar. His Talent sensed a well of purpleness beyond the door, but nothing resembling an ifrit—or a guard.
After a momentary hesitation, he started down the stairs, as quietly as possible, trying not to let his heavy boots resound on the stone steps.
The Table room was empty.
Alucius stepped inside, glancing at the Table, a solid structure with its sides covered in dark wood, running a yard and a third in width and length, and a yard in height. As he had expected, the entire surface was composed of a shimmering mirror. The Table looked to be slightly larger than those Alucius had seen before.
After a glance over his shoulder, he stepped closer to the Table, studying it with both eyes and Talent. Up close, the sheer power and presence of the Table was far greater than had been the case with the one in Tempre. Alucius frowned. The Table had to be new—or, at most, constructed within the past two years.
Alucius suddenly felt the presence of an ifrit—as if the room around him had filled with an even deeper shade of purple, although that was merely a sensation received through his Talent.
He turned quickly.
The white-haired Tarolt stood in the doorway, blocking any escape, and the power of the ifrit filled the doorway, a shimmering cloak of purple radiance. "Your attempts at illusion are useless."
Alucius released the breeze illusion. "I thought you'd gone…"
"Appearances can be deceiving. You of all Talent-steers should know that." The air wavered around Tarolt, and instead of a white-haired trader, there stood an ifrit of the type depicted in the ancient wall pictures of Deforya—and in Alucius's dreams—a figure a good head taller than Alucius with flawless alabaster skin, broad shoulders, shining black hair, and deep violet eyes. He wore a tunic and trousers of brilliant green, both trimmed in a deep purple, and his boots shimmered as if they were silvered black, so highly polished were they.
"I had no doubts of what you are," Alucius replied, trying to calculate how best to deal with the ifrit. After he learned what he could.
"Then… even what is may be deceiving," said the ifrit who was or had been Tarolt.
A section of stone wall to the right of Tarolt slid open, and a second ifrit stepped into the Table chamber.
"You seem to know so much," offered Alucius. "Tell me why I'm here."
"Curiosity… a fatal flaw of your kind," suggested the Tarolt-ifrit.
"You don't know much if that's what you think," Alucius snorted. "I already know about your kind. The great ifrits of the past… the sandoxes and the pteridons, and none of it was enough to prevent the soarers from thwarting you."
" 'Efran' is a more accurate term, in so far as definitions are ever accurate," replied the second ifrit.
"Efran or ifrit…" Alucius forced a shrug. "Sooner or later someone was going to ask about all the strange deaths of traders."
"If they did? What would they discover?" Tarolt smiled and took a step toward Alucius.
"That they shouldn't have died, not all in the same year." The colonel stepped back and to his left, so that the Table was between him and the two ifrits.
"Death happens to you mortals. Does it matter when?"
Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters Page 56
