Lady-Protector

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  Of course. They would choose a place where I can’t draw on the darkness. She almost frowned. But how would they know that? The other Ifrit didn’t. “What do you suggest?”

  “Send out a squad to see what they can do. One equipped with sniper rifles.”

  “Do you have any marksmen?” Mykella smiled. “Besides Salyna, that is?”

  Areyst grinned, if momentarily. “I had thought of taking her, but that would not be wise.”

  “I should go with you.”

  The commander shook his head. “There are but three of them, and they can be killed. The doors below in the palace are not finished, and if any others attempted to use the Table, you are the only one who could stop them. I told those on duty to aim for the head, but for one man to inform you immediately and with no delay.”

  Mykella didn’t like it, but she could see the wisdom in his words. “You might want to find some iron-faced shields or something like that.”

  “There were five in the old section of the armory.”

  “There’s one other matter.”

  Areyst raised his eyebrows but did not speak.

  “Salyna was here earlier. She made the point that, if women were trained as auxiliaries, starting now, that might free more guards by summer.”

  “It well might … except it takes people to train them.”

  “What if she were in charge, and even did some of the training, but had to make them meet standards the two of you agreed upon before they could qualify for being paid?”

  “The men wouldn’t like it if barely trained women got paid the same as troopers.”

  “Salyna suggested that they be called auxiliaries. That way, their starting pay could be lower.”

  “I can’t deal with that now.”

  “No. You need to go. What if I have her write up a plan for you when you return?”

  “I could certainly look at it and see if it might work.”

  That means you’re as desperate as Salyna thinks you are. “I’ll have her do that. After you two talk, and if you can come to an agreement, then bring it to me.”

  Areyst nodded. “That would be best.” His eyes flicked toward the window.

  Mykella stood. “You’d better go and take care of the Ifrits.”

  Once Areyst departed, Mykella walked to the window, where she touched the stone, then reached for the greenish darkness and slipped down to the Table chamber. It was empty, but the Table appeared to be glowing ever slightly more brightly than it had been in the previous few days. She stepped forward and studied the Table more closely. She discerned nothing. Then she concentrated on Cheleyza.

  The mists swirled across the silvered surface before revealing her aunt riding through a misty rain, the mount carrying her along an eternastone highway.

  She’s not to Harmony yet, and Chalcaer didn’t come to meet her. Good.

  Mykella sought out others of interest, but all were undertaking routine tasks—except that Porofyr was engaged in disrobing a young woman definitely not his wife, and Mykella quickly concentrated on Lhanyr, who was leafing though a ledger while talking to a younger man.

  Once she finished her Table surveillance, Mykella stepped back and studied the Table once more. It had definitely brightened somewhat. Did that mean that another Ifrit or group of Ifrits was watching … or preparing to use the Table? How could she tell?

  The appearance of the Ifrits concerned her far more than she had told either Salyna or Areyst. After all the years since the Cataclysm, why had they reappeared? What other weapons might they bring? Supposedly, according to the stories, during the Cataclysm the weapons of the Alectors had sunk the vaunted cities of Elcien and Ludar into the Bay of Ludar. But could the Ifrits bring such weapons through the Tables from where they were?

  She shook her head. There was so much she didn’t know, about the Table, about being a ruler … and most of all, she worried about not knowing what else she didn’t know.

  17

  Because Mykella hadn’t received any messages from Commander Areyst when she stepped into her study on Septi morning, she decided against riding through Tempre, even though there were still large sections of the city she hadn’t seen recently—or with the eyes of a Lady-Protector. The only one she’d told about the Ifrits’ taking over Klevytr’s villa had been Salyna, and she had been very brief, despite her worries. Midmorning came and went, and there was still no word from the commander. So she had Chalmyr summon Duchael to her study.

  Once the assistant minister for Highways and Rivers arrived, she immediately gestured him into a chair, and asked, “Would you please explain why you’re asking for another thousand golds for the sewers?”

  “You had indicated that repairs might be necessary, Lady, and there are not sufficient golds in the maintenance accounts.”

  Mykella opened the master ledger for the ministry and leafed through to the subaccounts. As she did, she concentrated on Duchael, sensing a growing nervousness. She glanced down the columns. “We are only a little more than three weeks into the year, and already three hundred golds have been spent on maintenance. That does not include the wages for the engineer’s workers. On what, exactly, were those golds spent?”

  “I don’t know, Lady. Minister Porofyr made the transfers himself.”

  “Until I do know for what those golds were spent, do you really think it is wise for me to grant more golds to the ministry?”

  “Lady … I cannot say. I only know that there are only two hundred golds left in the maintenance account.”

  “Last year, maintenance required one thousand two hundred golds. Please provide me with a listing of what maintenance was accomplished with those golds, as well as what maintenance was accomplished with the three hundred spent over the last three weeks. As assistant minister, surely you should be able to discover that.”

  Duchael swallowed. “Yes, Lady.”

  “Say … by Novdi morning. You can leave your report with Chalmyr if I’m not here.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  Mykella stood. “That’s all.” Her voice was soft.

  As Duchael backed out of the study, Mykella could sense a rising tide of fear and desperation. Why? Because Porofyr has taken the golds, and Duchael fears for his life if he reveals that … and fears me if he doesn’t?

  Once the door closed, she sat down with a sigh. Even when the numbers in the ledgers balanced, they didn’t reveal what lay behind the entries. She had the sense that, for the most part, the Southern Guard entries were accurate. Otherwise, Joramyl wouldn’t have had to fabricate false entries for comparatively smaller sums for tack from a nonexistent leather worker in order to obtain golds from the Guard funds. She hadn’t sensed deception in Cerlyk, but that didn’t mean Loryalt hadn’t been diverting funds. Or that he had, she reminded herself.

  She stood and walked to the study door, opening it partway. “Could you send someone to see if Cerlyk’s in? If he is, I’d like to see him.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  In less than half a glass, Cerlyk entered the study, bowing politely. “You requested my presence, Lady?”

  “I did. I’m curious about your request for golds.” Mykella motioned to the chair. “If you would explain it…”

  “Yes, Lady,” replied Cerlyk as he seated himself. “Most times, we wouldn’t need to request anything at all. When the ministry does a timber sale or receives the overrides on approved private sales, the golds go into the Treasury, except for a portion reserved for the pay and maintenance of the local inspectors … and for running the ministry here in Tempre. Both those total one part in twenty, on average, and the Forestry Ministry keeps a reserve of between a thousand and two thousand golds for those wages and costs, including for the minister and me and the clerks. Even so, usually, we don’t spend all of that over the year, because Minister Loryalt is most careful in approving expenses.” Cerlyk paused. “Last winter, though, Lord Joramyl said that the Lord-Protector needed to draw on the reserves and transferred all but two hundred gold
s from us. We don’t have any timber sales coming—I told you about that—and we won’t receive any overrides on private sales until midsummer at the earliest.”

  “I see.” What she saw was that Joramyl had been diverting thousands of golds more than she had already found. But what did he do with them?

  “Do you know when Forester Loryalt will be returning to Tempre?”

  Cerlyk shook his head slightly, as if puzzled by her change of subject. “Not precisely, Lady. Before he departed, he said that he hoped to complete his inspections by the end of the eighth week of spring, and that would be two weeks from next Londi.”

  “Does he usually return early or late from such inspections?”

  “He seldom has been later. He is most careful in his estimations and calculations.”

  Mykella hoped that care also applied to the forester’s estimations of revenues. She nodded, then said, “It appears that Lord Joramyl diverted large amounts of golds from a number of ministry accounts. Until Haelyt and I can determine all that is missing from various accounts, I’m reluctant to transfer golds anywhere. Do you need these golds urgently?”

  Cerlyk tilted his head slightly, pursing his lips, replying after a few moments. “What we have should suffice for the next few tendays, possibly longer.”

  “That would be helpful. If matters become more urgent before that, please let me know. I hope we can resolve the discrepancies before then.”

  “Is that all you needed, Lady? Or is there other information you require?”

  “Not at the moment.” Mykella rose. At times, she felt like a string puppet, rising and sitting as required by the moment. “Thank you.”

  Cerlyk stood, bowed, and departed.

  Would she ever get to the bottom of all the missing golds? Where could Joramyl have possibly put them? Or had Cheleyza taken most of them with her? The only thing Mykella had found hidden in the villa had been the antique sabers, and they weren’t even the kind the Southern Guards used. That seemed to be her fortune, discovering more and more losses, and what little she did find seemed useless. She replaced the account ledgers in the bookcase although they’d have to go back to Haelyt before long.

  The study door eased open.

  “Do you have a moment, Mykella?” asked Salyna. “I wanted to ask you some things about the plan for the auxiliaries.” She looked at her sister. “I can come back. You look worried. If I’m interrupting…”

  Mykella shook her head. “Right now, I’m as much waiting and thinking as anything. I haven’t heard from Areyst…” She motioned for her sister to come in and close the study door.

  Salyna did so. “Is it about the Ifrits? They say that Seltyr Klevytr can be most intemperate. Has anyone told him?”

  “I haven’t told anyone but you. I’m not about to tell him until I have to. I hope we can get the Ifrits under control first.” She smiled ruefully. “What did you want to ask?”

  “I’d thought to train thirty women to begin with. I can handle that many, mostly, and if I could have the help of just a guard or two…”

  “You’re running the palace, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve asked Rachylana to help, and she’s already doing some things.”

  Mykella should have thought of that. Keeping Rachylana busy might keep her out of too much trouble. “That’s a good idea.”

  “They really ought to have training in sabers as well as rifles, but … with the shortage of arms … we could use wooden blanks, I suppose…”

  Mykella frowned. There was something … “We found a score of antique sabers in Joramyl’s villa. I thought they were useless. They’re not what the Guards uses.”

  “They’re blades! Once they get past the first stages, we can use them … Thank you!”

  Mykella concealed an amused smile. She hadn’t even agreed, not that there was any reason not to.

  After more than a half glass, Salyna departed, and Mykella walked to the window and looked across at the park. Was there the slightest touch of spring green?.

  “Captain Maeltor and a messenger, Lady,” announced Chalmyr from behind her.

  “Send them in.” Mykella turned and walked back to her desk. She remained standing, not that such was required, especially for those who reported to her, but she was concerned and felt more composed on her feet.

  The man accompanying Maeltor wore the blue uniform of the Southern Guards but with an embroidered insignia of a horse on the upper shoulder of his jacket.

  “Slaedek has a message from the commander, Lady.”

  The Southern Guard extended a folded but unsealed sheet. “Lady-Protector, the commander asked me to tell you that the men who escaped the palace are trapped in a tower. They killed several retainers at the villa of Seltyr Klevytr, but they cannot escape.”

  “Thank you.” Mykella took the sheet, unfolded it, and began to read.

  Lady-Protector—

  The attackers have barricaded themselves in the stronghold tower of the villa. They have several captives. One is the daughter of Klevytr. She is about the age of your youngest sister. The others are retainers. We cannot take the tower without risking her life.

  They cannot be allowed to escape, but, for now, we will wait to see what happens … or for any instructions you have.

  The signature below the words was a single “A.”

  Should she go to the villa … or not? Klevytr’s daughter complicated the situation more than she would have liked.

  “Captain Maeltor … if you and Guard Slaedek will wait in the anteroom for a moment, I would like to think over the commander’s message. I will not be long.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  Both Southern Guards looked slightly puzzled, but complied.

  Once they were out of the study, Mykella slid the bolt, then walked to the window and touched the granite casement. In instants, she stood inside the Table chamber, raising her shields as soon as she emerged. The door was closed, but the inside was still the one of wood. When will they finish the iron shutter doors?

  She walked to the Table, studying its brightness. So far, it was not pulsing a brilliant pinkish purple, and more than a day had passed the last time after the pulsing had begun before the Ifrits had arrived.

  You’ll have to chance it.

  She glanced into the depths of the Table, seeking the Ifrits, but the Table revealed nothing. She hadn’t thought it would, but it had been worth the effort. A second effort revealed Areyst in a white-walled corridor. The commander was talking to a Southern Guard. Mykella frowned. The guard’s image was clear, but Areyst’s was silvered and fainter. Why would that be? She watched for several moments, but nothing changed.

  After reaching out to the greenish blackness, she transported herself back to the study, where she walked to the door and undid the bolt, then stepped out into the anteroom.

  Chalmyr and the other two looked up. So did the messenger boy in the corner.

  “Captain … I’ll be riding to join the commander immediately. You will remain here as senior officer of the Southern Guards.” She turned to Chalmyr. “If all goes well, I should be back sometime tomorrow.”

  “That’s a hard ride in that time even…” Maeltor broke off his words.

  “Even for a guard?” Mykella finished “It is, but that is what is necessary. If you would have my mount and a spare ready as soon as possible, I will join you.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  She nodded to the two and walked from the anteroom toward her apartments to get her riding jacket and a few things.

  Behind her, she caught a few words.

  “… she do that?”

  “… likely do more than any of us might wish…”

  She certainly hoped so.

  18

  The sun hung just above the low hills to the west in the slowly darkening silver-green sky when Mykella and the squad of Southern Guards turned off the eternastone highway and covered the fifty yards of paved lane leading to the stone gates of Klevytr’s estate. Mykella was somew
hat tired, but more thirsty than anything, since she’d finished off her water bottle a glass or so earlier and hadn’t wanted to stop. She’d been occasionally reaching out with her Talent, but the estate was clearly far enough away from the nearest of the underground paths of greenish blackness to be beyond her ability to reach and tap into it. She hadn’t expected otherwise, but she had wanted to make certain.

  The pair of mounted guards by the gate did not quite stare as they caught sight of Mykella riding beside Zhulyn, the squad leader.

  “Lady-Protector!”

  “Where is Commander Areyst?” She kept her voice calm but added just a touch of Talent, so that it carried.

  “Up at the main villa, Lady,” one guard finally replied.

  The lane from the gates to the villa was less than half a vingt long and ran due south. It was not stone-paved, but covered in gravel, and still held ruts remaining from carts and wagons traversing it after the infrequent winter snows and too-frequent early-spring rains. On each side of the lane was a row of oaks, old enough that they would provide a canopy of shade once they leafed out, except in places where the original trees had died and not been replaced, and there were at least ten such instances, Mykella noted. The trees ended at a boxwood hedge that encircled what looked to be a garden, also circled by the lane.

  On the south side sprawled the villa, a low one-story structure—except for the tower. As towers went, it did not seem terribly impressive, a square stone building that looked to have been stuck onto the east end of the villa.

  Mykella didn’t have to search for Areyst because he rode up immediately, his jacket partly unbuttoned. Although his face was shaded, with the low and late-afternoon sun behind him and in Mykella’s face, she could see—and sense—a combination of strain, frustration, and worry.

  “Lady … to the right! They occasionally try to strike anyone who approaches the tower with their weapons.”

  “To the right!” she repeated, guiding the gelding toward him.

  As if understanding that the commander and the Lady-Protector needed space, Zhulyn gestured to the squad to hold back as Areyst and Mykella rode to the west around the hedged garden.