Lady-Protector

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  Her lips twisted. Rachylana would have told her that she was trying to make everything right and that in real life things didn’t work out as well as in romantic tales. Mykella knew that all too well, but she still had to try.

  After the midday meal, before she returned to her formal study, she eased down to the Table chamber. Outside in the stone-walled corridor, crafters were hammering and working, most likely installing the locks on the outer door, and the sounds echoed everywhere.

  The Table did not appear any brighter, and, in a way, that also worried her. Still, she had work to do. Her first effort was to focus on Cheleyza.

  For a moment, Mykella thought she had inadvertently concentrated on someone besides Cheleyza because the figure that had appeared once the mists had vanished appeared to be that of a young cavalry officer … except it was not. Cheleyza wore a dark green uniform and had reined up beside the hard-faced man who had accompanied her on the barge and riding northward. Most likely Paelyt. He also wore the same uniform, with an insignia that appeared to resemble crossed gold axes on his collar. The two appeared to be on a rise, with another line of tree-covered hills in the distance. Reviewing troops? Plotting? Mykella couldn’t tell and let the image lapse.

  Next she thought about the healer who had let her father die.

  Treghyt lay on a pallet, motionless. Mykella had no idea where, except that he looked to be in a humble cot, and two younger people stood looking over him. The woman, older than Mykella and worn-looking, was sobbing. Mykella couldn’t feel much sympathy for Treghyt, but could understand how a daughter, if the woman did happen to be his daughter, would feel grief, especially since she doubted the woman knew of Treghyt’s betrayal.

  Next came Maxymt. The former chief Finance clerk was wearing a jacket that had once been almost finery but was stained and dirt-smudged. He appeared thinner as he walked along a dirt road, glancing back over his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. I hope you worry for the rest of your miserable life.

  Mykella decided she should also check on what Commander Demyl was doing. She should have done that earlier, given the commander’s anger when he’d left Tempre. The Table promptly displayed an image. Demyl was riding between two other men—troopers in white uniforms, officers from the silver insignia on their collars. White uniforms? She had to think for a moment before realizing that the white was the color of Southgate. That makes sense. Demyl was the sort to land on his feet anywhere, and doubtless he intended to act against Lanachrona as he could from his new position.

  Porofyr was in his study, poring over a ledger, while Khanasyl was walking through his factorage, talking to another man, who kept nodding at the Seltyr’s every word.

  Mykella let the Table clear and took a slow deep breath. She still needed to learn how to control and channel the green that lay so far below. She slipped into the nearer darkness, then moved deeper until the black gave way to a green so dark it was close to black yet not black at all. For an instant, the green wrapped around her, swathing her in an aliveness that was both bracing—and chilling. But when she extended her Talent to gather the green, it slipped away from her.

  After a moment—or what seemed a moment—she used her Talent to form a basket of blackness that she extended around the green. That tactic seemed to work, except that the green squirted out of the basket before she could “close” it. She tried several more times but could not quite englobe any of the green before it slipped way.

  Still, she had learned something.

  In the end, she had to leave the green-dark depths and return to her apartments, then walk to the formal study. No sooner had she entered it than Chalmyr followed her, extending a heavy paper sealed in maroon wax. “A missive from High Factor Lhanyr, Lady.”

  “Thank you.” Mykella broke the seal and read, even before Chalmyr had left the study.

  Most honored Lady-Protector—

  In as much as you requested my thoughts on the matter of a factor who might be suited to the position of Minister of Highways and Rivers, I have mulled over the matter to the best of my ability. In my opinion, and it is only my personal opinion, either High Factor Zylander or High Factor Pytroven would make an excellent choice for the position. I must caution you that I have not talked to them. I could not say whether either would consider the post. Zylander might be more inclined. His eldest is already respected in his own right as a factor …

  Mykella nodded as she finished the lengthy explanation. She had to admit that she trusted Lhanyr’s recommendations far more than those of Khanasyl.

  Is that because he’s more trustworthy?

  Unfortunately, trustworthiness had its limits because being trustworthy didn’t necessarily equate to good judgment. Still, she appreciated Lhanyr’s effort, and she had some thinking to do.

  “The Lady Salyna and Commander Areyst,” announced Chalmyr.

  Mykella had almost forgotten that she’d agreed to talk over Salyna’s plans for training women auxiliaries for the Southern Guards. “Have them come in.”

  Before the last words were out of her mouth, Salyna had opened the study door and was walking in, followed by Areyst. The commander offered a warm, but rueful, smile to Mykella.

  Salyna handed two sheets to Mykella. “Commander Areyst has already received a copy.”

  After the two were seated before her desk, Mykella read through the first page—a rationale for the auxiliaries and a proposed budget and pay structure—and then the second, which contained an outline of a training schedule. When she finished, she looked to Areyst. “Do you have any comments on the proposal, Commander?”

  “The schedule would appear rather ambitious,” he said with an ironic smile, “but I have learned in recent weeks that one must be careful in judging what a talented woman can do.”

  Mykella wasn’t about to acknowledge the potential pun in his reply. “That is true, but there is a difference between the possible and the impossible.” She looked to Salyna. “Do you really think you can meet this schedule?”

  “I don’t see why not. Most of the Southern Guard companies are in Viencet. That leaves much of the headquarters facilities unused. That way, we won’t interfere with normal activities. Also, I’ve found two stipended squad leaders who are willing to work with me and with Squad Leader Shaolyt. I already have over fifty women who are physically able and want the chance. Once they’re trained, they can do duties that the guards don’t like. Some could be clerks. Three have experience with horses…”

  Mykella listened, impressed by the lengths to which Salyna had gone. She could also sense that Areyst, despite his professionally pleasant expression, was also impressed.

  When Salyna finished, Mykella looked to Areyst. “Your thoughts, Commander?”

  “It is a well-thought-out plan, but it has one obvious flaw.”

  “That is?”

  Areyst offered a slightly embarrassed smile. “Lady Salyna is likely the only person, saving yourself, who could make this work. Once it is established, say, for several years, it offers enough to the Southern Guards that it will continue.”

  Mykella understood and turned to her sister. “Are you willing to commit to directing this for the next two years?”

  “I am. Longer if necessary.”

  “If we agree to this,” Mykella continued, “I will hold you to that commitment.”

  “I understand.”

  “Then,” added Areyst, “there is one other necessity. The Lady Salyna must be granted the rank of undercaptain.”

  “How will the Guards take a woman officer?” asked Mykella.

  “In the immediate term, I would request that Undercaptain Salyna give direct orders only to women and the three squad leaders reporting to her. If she needs other assistance, she is to come to me or to an officer delegated to represent me. Likewise, no male officer can give her orders but must go through the same procedure. The sole exception, which I hope never occurs, would be in battle.”

  Mykella thought for a moment, then nodded.
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  “So long as this is for the immediate term, I would agree,” said Salyna. “If and when the women guards prove worthy, I would ask that you reconsider that procedure.”

  “That would seem reasonable,” replied Areyst. “When would you plan to begin training?”

  “On this coming Londi. The sooner we start, the better.”

  “You can actually assemble those women and the necessary supplies by then?”

  “I already have,” replied Salyna.

  Neither Mykella nor Areyst could totally conceal smiles.

  23

  The first task Mykella undertook after breakfast on Duadi was to check the Table again, apparently no brighter a shade of pinkish purple than the day before, then attempt once more to find a way to control the deep green that seemed to lie so far beneath the palace.

  Wearing her riding jacket and gloves, Mykella dropped into the depths and just let herself be surrounded by the deep, deep green. As she did, she began to sense more of the “markers.” The black one she had earlier visited—and nearly frozen in doing so—was much brighter, as if black could be brighter. Another marker she had never sensed before, one of orange-yellow, also was brighter. That had to be Lysia, from what the soarer had said. Even the “trace” marker in Dereka seemed somewhat brighter, with its crimson and gold. Why would it be brighter, when there was no Table remaining there? The nearest marker was the bright blue of Tempre, yet it did not seem any brighter than the orange-yellow marker, or especially the black one, and she sensed that the orange-yellow marker was the most distant, as it indeed was.

  Did the brightness signify that the Ifrits were trying to activate those Tables or that the brighter Tables were near where the so-called scepters might be? How could she tell which was which? Or if brightness meant anything at all besides some actions by the Ifrits? She wrenched her thoughts back to dealing with the problem at hand—trying to channel and control the deeper green.

  Again, she could immerse herself so that she was surrounded by the green, but any attempt to control it by extending her Talent scattered it, and none of her attempts to surround it with shields or the equivalent were successful.

  When she returned to her own chamber, both frustrated and angry, she wasn’t so chill as she had been on previous occasions. Had that been because of the gloves—or her anger?

  There was something else as well … something she’d noted and almost forgotten. When she had emerged in the hidden city of the soarers, she’d been standing on a silver mirror … and no one put mirrors on the floor. The only other place she’d seen anything like that was the Tables themselves. Were there other silver mirrors … those used by the soarers?

  For the moment, investigating that speculation would have to wait because she needed to hurry to the study for her weekly ministers’ meeting.

  The first of ministerial representatives was Cerlyk, but Duchael, Areyst, and Gharyk entered the study almost immediately thereafter and took their places around the old table.

  Mykella began. “As Commander Areyst already knows, and some of you may have heard, the brigands who attacked the palace left Tempre and attempted to take over Seltyr Klevytr’s villa. They carried ancient flame-cutting pistols. In the end, they were killed, and Seltyr Klevytr’s youngest daughter was rescued. There will doubtless be various rumors, but the important point is that, even with powerful weapons, they were unsuccessful—and we now have those weapons.” She looked to Areyst. “If you would continue with a report on the Southern Guards, Commander?”

  Areyst smiled politely. “Thank you, Lady. I will not go over the matter of the brigands, except to say that the successful resolution of the matter would not have been possible without the Lady-Protector.”

  As he spoke, Mykella could sense veiled amusement, not at her but at the understatement of his words. She did manage to maintain a pleasant smile.

  “… Commander Choalt has arrived in Viencet…” From there Areyst went on to expand upon the report he had earlier sent to Mykella.

  “Thank you, Commander.” Mykella turned to Duchael. “What do you have to report?”

  “Lady-Protector, the chief engineer is undertaking a thorough inspection of the sewers in the western and central parts of Tempre…”

  A quarter of a glass and many words later, Mykella looked across the table. “Cerlyk?”

  “There is little to add at the moment, Lady-Protector, save that Forester Loryalt did send a message indicating that he is likely to return as he planned.…”

  When the assistant forester finished, Mykella nodded to Gharyk.

  “Lady … as a result of your inquiries, we have been looking into why a number of offenders have died in gaol before they could be brought before a justicer. This has turned out to be a greater problem than I had known. You may recall that Justicer Juasyn suffered a riding accident last summer and died. His family reported that the girths on his saddle had been mostly cut through, but who had done that was never discovered. What is unfortunate is that his death occurred less than a week after he had sent a missive to Gaoler Huatyn asking about the deaths of three offenders who had all died of various causes in gaol before they were able to be tried…”

  Mykella was anything but surprised by what Gharyk reported. “Would you recommend that Huatyn be removed as head gaoler?”

  “That would appear prudent, Lady.”

  “Then draft the proper document for me to sign.”

  Gharyk nodded. He didn’t seem relieved, but even more concerned. Mykella wasn’t about to pursue that in a meeting.

  Once the four had left the study, Mykella walked back toward her desk. She looked at the open-topped wooden box set on the second shelf of the study bookcase. The top missive of those stacked there was the short letter from High Factor Lhanyr. Its very presence reminded her that she would have to make a decision on whom to appoint as Minister of Highways and Rivers. No decision she made would be well received. The Seltyrs would back a Seltyr for the post of Minister of Highways and Rivers, and the factors would want a factor. Was there anyone who looked at both sides? Mykella nodded slowly. Almardyn—one of the few Seltyrs in Tempre who also held the lesser title of High Factor. Does he belong to both groups so that he can learn more … or just obtain better trading terms? Absently, she realized she never would have considered that question, let alone asked it, a year earlier. Still … Almardyn had seemed honest and objective enough the one time she’d met him personally and face-to-face.

  His views on filling the position couldn’t help but be instructive. And that way you can also claim you talked to other factors and Seltyrs.

  She walked to the door of the study and opened it enough to look out at Chalmyr. “Would you send word that I will be riding out in a quarter glass?”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  She closed the door and withdrew into the study, stopping halfway between her desk and the bookcase. Who else should you talk to about it?

  In the end, she made no decision except to talk to Almardyn first, and less than half a glass later, accompanied by a half squad of Southern Guards, she was reining up outside Almardyn’s warehouse, a block to the south of the Grand Piers, an older two-story stone structure. Two wagons were pulled up to the loading docks on the west side, and the two men rearranging barrels in the rear of the far wagon glanced up at the sound and sight of the riders.

  Mykella dismounted and handed the reins to the nearest guard, looking at the squad leader. “Zhulyn … please wait. I doubt I’ll be long.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  Mykella walked up to the front entrance, a simple doorway set within an ornate but older faux-marble arch.

  A youth opened the door before Mykella could reach out to lift the black-painted horsehead knocker. His eyes took in Mykella with puzzlement, then widened as he realized she wore nightsilk and the riders waiting on the street were Southern Guards. “Lady…” His voice trembled.

  “I’m here to see Seltyr Almardyn.”


  The youth just stood there and swallowed.

  “What is it, Jhesyt?”

  “Sir … sir…” The boy stepped back as the Seltyr appeared.

  Almardyn’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he beheld Mykella, but he smiled politely. “Lady-Protector, I would not have expected you…”

  “Might I come in? I would like a few words with you.”

  “Please do.” Almardyn stepped back, opening the door wide.

  Mykella concentrated momentarily, assuring herself that her shields were in place, then stepped through the doorway and followed the Seltyr to the warehouse study, a small white-plastered chamber with a table-desk, and wooden file boxes stacked neatly to the right. There, after closing the door, Almardyn turned. “First you come to see me on behalf of your sire … and now as Lady-Protector. Should I be honored or worried, Lady?”

  “Both, I would judge,” replied Mykella with a smile. “I was impressed with you the last time we met, and I wished to have your thoughts. I also felt that, if I came to see you with a squad of Southern Guards, you could certainly point out to others that meeting with me was not your choice.”

  “Your choice of words, Lady, is worrisome. You imply that others might not feel I should meet with you.”

  “There are always some who feel that meeting freely with a ruler is unwise. I came to see you and seek your thoughts. As you may have heard, Seltyr Porofyr chose to resign rather than continue as Minister of Highways and Rivers. I consulted with First Seltyr Khanasyl and Chief High Factor Lhanyr. Each recommended possible successors to Seltyr Porofyr. You are, so far as I can determine, the only one who is both a Seltyr and a High Factor. Because you are, I felt talking to you before making a decision would be wise.” Mykella smiled politely.

  “You are most kind to think of me, but I doubt that I can add much to what others might already have told you.”