A stone-walled chamber surrounded Mykella. The illumination came from one lone light-torch remaining functional from the two sets of double light-torches set five yards apart in bronze brackets on each side wall. Beside the Table itself, the only object in the chamber was a black oak chest slightly over a yard in height and set against the north wall, equidistant between the light-torches. The only exit to the Table chamber was through a square arch at the west end of the chamber, from which stone steps led upward from the chamber. The walls and ceiling were all of polished red stone, a material Mykella had not seen in any other Table chamber.
She looked at the Table, gaining immediately a feeling of immense age as she neared it. The mirrored surface was cloudy beneath the shimmer, something she had not seen with any other Table. More out of curiosity than anything, she concentrated on seeing Salyna—and was rewarded with an immediate image of her sister directing some sort of mounted drill, flanked by a white-haired Southern Guard.
She let the image lapse and studied the ancient Table, but could not find any sense of an Alector—only a feel of growing purplish pink. That disturbed her, but there did not seem to be anything that she could do. Finally, she walked to the archway and started up the steps, only to find them blocked at the top by a wall of what looked and felt like polished black onyx—except the stone was neither warm nor cold to the touch.
She turned and walked back down to the chamber and tried to reach the darkness, harder than from other Table chambers, but soon she was in the chill depths, flashing toward the blue and maroon Table. This time, she emerged without difficulty in an empty Table chamber. At one end of the chamber was a statue of a single figure, close to three yards in height. Mykella could see that the statue was a representation of an Alector, apparently life-sized. That gave her a visceral feeling of just how large the Alectors had been … and still were. The stone figure held a silver scepter topped with glittering blue stones arranged to simulate a flame. While a dozen light-torch brackets graced the walls, only five light-torches provided any illumination.
There were decorative hangings on the side walls, holding angular and unfamiliar designs. Between the two hangings to Mykella’s right was an archway and a stone-walled corridor beyond that appeared to end at a wall. She sensed no one near, nor could she detect any sign of an Alector although the Table definitely radiated the same purplish power as had the “pink” Table.
The frost boiling off her jacket into a foggy mist reminded Mykella of how far she had traveled, and that suggested the pink Table was far closer to Tempre.
After several moments, she strode into the corridor toward the wall—except it was a screen wall, with passages on each side around the central screen. All the walls had been finished with blue ceramic tile, except for a single course at the edge, done in maroon. She could sense a large hall beyond the screen wall, with a platform overlooking it—seemingly identical to the hall near the amber Table she had visited more than a season earlier. She stepped onto the platform beyond the wall into an amphitheater in whose size the light of a handful of light-torches was lost. Sensing no one, and no exit, Mykella turned and hurried back to the Table chamber.
From there, she traveled to Lysia. The Table there might have been brighter, and it was still pulsing, slightly more strongly. Again, there was little she could do, and she eased herself into the depths and back to Tempre.
When she again stood in her own Table chamber, she couldn’t help thinking, What if all this is a distraction, a way to tire and send me everywhere?
Yet … what else could she do? If large numbers of Ifrits arrived and escaped from the Table chambers, it wouldn’t matter what happened between the coastal princes and Lanachrona—and, outside of her sisters and Areyst, she really couldn’t tell anyone.
After taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the Tempre Table and sought out Cheleyza.
Again, the Table showed an image of the immediate area around Cheleyza, which appeared to be a clearing or a space just below a pine forest. Mykella forced a Talent probe into the Table, trying to get the Table to display an image from higher, as if from the eye of a ferrohawk.
That probe was halted by a purple wall that she had not even sensed before, and the feeling of someone watching from a great distance. She pressed harder, and the presence—and the barrier—vanished.
Mykella finally focused an image in the Table that satisfied her, from high in the sky, that showed the coastal forces in a camp on the north side of the highway and some twenty vingts west of Viencet … and perhaps five east of a blackened area that was likely the town of Baryma. By then, perspiration was oozing from her forehead as well as down her neck.
But when she tried to gain an image of Baryma itself, without thinking of Cheleyza, the Table blanked. Even with the images from the sky, there had to be a link to someone Mykella knew. Why?
She had no idea, but when she then concentrated on Salyna, straining for an image from the sky, the Table rewarded her with a picture that showed the auxiliaries riding in an exercise formation on the flat ground just west of Viencet.
Mykella let that image fade and used the darkness to reach her personal chambers, as well as to cool herself. She immediately stripped off gloves and jacket, belatedly realizing that she should have done so when she had first returned to Tempre. She still ended up having to wash up again and change to another set of clean nightsilks.
Then, with thoughts still on what was happening farther to the west, Mykella walked from her apartments to the anteroom, where Chalmyr was waiting, an envelope in hand. “Lady…”
“Oh…” Mykella almost jumped. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.”
“A messenger brought this from the First Seltyr.”
“Thank you.” Mykella took it and walked into her study, closing the door.
She used her belt knife to slit the envelope. Then she removed the single sheet and began to read.
Lady-Protector—
It has come to my attention that there are effectively no Southern Guards remaining in Tempre …
Mykella scanned the letter and set it aside, laying it on the desk. First Seltyr or not, she really didn’t want to respond although she knew she would, just not at that moment.
All any of them care about is whether they’re protected, not whether the people are, or whether Lanachrona will prosper … She snorted and walked to the window, glad for the scattered clouds and slightly cooler breeze that came through the windows.
She could not have stood there for more than a tenth of a glass when there was a rap on the study door. She turned. “Yes?”
“Lady, you have a dispatch from Arms-Commander Areyst,” Chalmyr announced.
“I’ll take it.” Mykella hurried toward the study door, practically snatching the envelope from the scrivener’s hand as he extended it. “Thank you.”
She forced herself to wait until Chalmyr had closed the door before she opened and read the dispatch.
My Lady-Protector—
I regret to inform you that three companies of Midcoast cavalry raided and fired Baryma. Commander Choalt’s special company attacked them as they departed the town, and the body count suggests that almost half the raiders were killed or severely injured. Those severely injured did not survive. The townspeople appeared and killed them. Majer Choalt lost but ten troopers.
Our scouts have not caught sight of the main coastal forces, but it is likely that they are near.
The auxiliaries have arrived. They have promptly taken over all routine duties. This has afforded a mixed blessing, since some of the supply troopers are unused to weapons practice. Overall, the results are good.
Undercaptain Salyna has insisted on some mounted practice for the auxiliaries, but has only done so after assuring that all maintenance and support is accomplished. The food has improved in just the days since Undercaptain Rachylana and her staff took over the cooking. That improvement alone suggests that the auxiliaries will likely have a permanent position in the Guard
s, but even the auxiliary cooks take arms practice. Undercaptain Rachylana insists.
Any information you can supply regarding the coastal forces would be most useful.
The only thing below the body of the report was Areyst’s signature, not that she had really expected more than that.
Mykella smiled as she reread the salutation, and the single possessive pronoun that suggested more than formality. The smile faded as she considered all that she had discovered that morning, especially the hidden presence of an Ifrit and the power building in the Tables.
Still … she could write out what she had discovered in the Table and dispatch that information immediately, although Choalt’s scouts might well discover that before the courier arrived.
Another thought occurred to her. If she had set up a relay post to the north of Viencet, with mounts there, a place she could easily reach through the darkness …
She shook her head.
She hadn’t considered that because she hadn’t wanted to reveal all that she could do, and now there wasn’t time to deal with all that it would involve, especially since she had to keep watching the Tables. And it would take more troopers.
Mykella snorted. Everything took more people and more golds.
58
Over Octdi, Novdi, and Decdi, Mykella watched and visited the three tables she had been monitoring two and sometimes three times a day, yet while the sense of power built, she could find no way to block or channel it away from the Tables, and there were never any Alectors around. Yet she knew from what she had seen and what the ancient soarer had revealed that the Ifrits could not move easily from world to world without the Tables, not in the way that she could move across the dark webs, and that they were limited to traveling from Table to Table on Corus. That meant they could not travel to Dereka, where one of the scepters happened to be, and that suggested an attack on the Table in Lysia was a certainty—but she had no idea exactly when.
She had worked with Chalmyr to write replies to the handful of factors and Seltyrs who had requested an explanation of why the Southern Guards had been pulled out of Tempre, politely pointing out that leaving Guards in Tempre was neither wise nor effective. No one responded to her reply, not to her, in any case, although she was most certain that some of those Seltyrs and factors were doubtless less than pleased.
On Londi, before noon., Mykella had just finished checking the three Tables and following the coastal forces—now less than fifteen vingts from where Areyst meant to engage them, but moving slowly—and returned to the study when Chalmyr announced that Chief High Factor Lhanyr needed to speak to her most urgently.
“Have him come in.” At least, Lhanyr had always appeared reasonable. Mykella stood to welcome.
“Lady-Protector … I did not know if I would find you here…”
“For now, Chief High Factor … for now.” She gestured to the chairs and seated herself.
Lhanyr took the middle chair. “It is said you will be with the Southern Guards…”
“If I am needed.” Mykella smiled politely. “But I am sure that is not the matter which brought you here.”
“No, indeed. It is a matter of import, but not of quite that which you face with the coastal barbarians.” The freckle-faced High Factor cleared his throat. “We had talked at the ball about the assistant minister of Highways and Rivers. I have been approached by a number of factors who claim that the First Seltyr is pressing every Seltyr to write you on behalf of one Jharyd, the son of Seltyr Thaen, on the grounds that, if a High Factor is the minister, then his assistant should certainly be from a Seltyr background…”
Mykella did not hear the next words because, somewhere beneath the palace, the green darkness screamed … and for an instant, she could sense the searing brilliance of three Table markers—pink, blue and maroon, and sullen red.
“… not be a problem in itself, save that young Jharyd possesses all the faults of his sire and none of the virtues…”
Mykella stood. “I beg your indulgence, Chief High Factor, but a matter far more urgent has just occurred…”
Lhanyr’s face showed consternation.
“I will explain later—if I am here to explain. If not, you will understand why.”
With that, she hurried to the door and out through the anteroom, not quite running to her chambers, where she threw on the nightsilk jacket and gloves, then dropped through the darkness toward the pink Table. As she did, she realized she’d left the door to her quarters ajar—but there was no help for that.
Again, almost belatedly, she sought the deepest of the green, immersing herself in it as deeply as she could, letting it infuse her before she rose toward the web of pink that surrounded the Table that was her first destination.
The pink threads writhed away from her, but with a vehemence that somehow sent waves of pressure through the green darkness with enough force that Mykella felt battered and bruised when she emerged in the polished red stone chamber. She barely managed to raise her shields before a bolt of purple-blue flame slammed into them, driving her back against the stone.
Strengthening her shields, and locking them to the stone, she straightened.
Two Ifrits stood on the Table. Between them stood a device on a tripod whose blue crystalline barrel was aimed at Mykella.
Another bolt of blue flared against her shields, and a dagger of fire lanced into her shoulder … as did another.
… keep firing … don’t let it … recover …
It? It? Mykella extended a Talent probe toward the nearer Ifrit.
Another blue bolt rocked her and her shields, but her probe lurched forward, first brushing, then tightening around the cablelike life-thread of the massive Ifrit, a thread that vanished into the Table itself.
As bolt after bolt struck her shields, and unseen fire-knives cut at her, leaving no trace but pain, Mykella fumbled her probe around the life-thread node. Finally, the node parted, and the Ifrit started to scream—except he vanished.
The rate of fire from the weapon slowed as the second Ifrit struggled with Mykella’s second probe. Then … node and Ifrit vanished.
For several moments, Mykella just stood there, breathing deeply. As she did, she could sense the Table reverting to a duller … “quieter” state. Even so, she had to get to Dulka … but the Ifrits would be waiting. Then she realized that she did not have to appear in the Table chamber itself. That had been her habit, and that habit had almost been her undoing. In Dulka, and off most Table chambers, there was a tunnel.
Mykella made a special effort to drop into the deepest green on her transit to Dulka. Unlike the pink Table, the Table at Dulka was not excessively pink-webbed, and she managed to emerge in the tunnel behind the screen wall finished in blue and maroon ceramic tiles.
The purplish feel of Ifrits was overpowering, although she was a good ten yards from the Table chamber itself. She did nothing until her shields were in place and strong. Then she raised a concealment shield before her and began to ease her way along the dimness of the torch-light-illuminated tunnel, barely able to make out a handful of the words spoken by the pair with the terrible weapon.
… someone … here … somewhere …
… cannot be … sealed … has to appear on the Table …
… know that?… no one seen … ancient …
Mykella almost smiled at that. Except for the one or perhaps two Ifrits who had seen her by using the Table from Efra, none of those who had encountered her had returned to Efra. She stopped short of the end of the tunnel and used her senses to slip a Talent probe toward the pair.
The first one dropped without knowing what had struck her.
The second one unleashed the weapon, firing blue-purple bolts everywhere, yelling as he did.… ancient!… unspeakable evil … degraded …
Several bolts ricocheted off the polished gray walls and struck her shields before Mykella was able to untwist his life-thread.
Her forehead was damp, and she felt vaguely dirty all over. The two had re
ally never had a chance. She stiffened. If they succeed, no one here will have a chance to live without being farmed like nightsheep or cattle. Cattle … that was the very word they use.
Still … she felt dirty, but there was no help for it … and there was one Table left to deal with, although she wasn’t certain how, given the lack of space there.
Mykella had no sooner dropped into the depths, half-wondering if she really needed to go to the buried Table that was sullen red, when an ugly purplish wave vibrated all through the pink web—the one that linked Table to Table. For a timeless moment, Mykella strained to discover the source … before she realized from the rapid fading of the sullen red Table marker that the wave had to have started there.
Her thoughts went no farther, not when the convulsions created in the greenish darkness by that wave slammed into her, striking her with alternating blows of ice and fire, fire and ice, leaving her reeling, if figuratively, in the chill depths, stalled in the cold.
She had to get back to Tempre … she had to …
Concentrating on the deeper green, she struggled toward the blue marker, as if swimming upstream through a torrent, forcing herself around the Table and, eventually to her own quarters. That … she’d had to do, because the Table chamber was locked.
For a moment, she stood beside the window of her bedchamber—she thought it was her bedchamber, but nothing was as it seemed—before her knees folded.
“Lady … Lady … what happened?”
A face hovered over Mykella, one she did not recognize immediately..
“Who…?”
“It’s me … Uleanna…”
At least, she was definitely back in Tempre.
That was the last thought she had before the burning darkness swept over her … except through that blackness ugly pink embers flared down and burned, like red-hot pokers jabbing into her body, her face … and every so often coolness bathed her, coolness that became ice, until she shivered … and was again singed and burned once more.
Lady-Protector Page 45
