What had he done to break clear of the arms in Alustre? He’d suffocated the recorder there with his shields. That wasn’t likely to work here.
Could he even form a shield in the tube? Dainyl visualized his Talent coating his garments on his left side, then expanding. Even in the chill of the blackness, he could feel heat building inside his body, as if trapped by his own shields. He kept pressing, expanding the shields against the grip of the purple arms he could sense and feel but not see.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he could sense his shields expanding.
Abruptly, the arms released.
Dainyl Talent-linked to the maroon and blue locator wedge, then found it flashing toward him.
In moments, he shattered the silvered barrier.
Dainyl managed not to stagger as he stood on the Table in the empty chamber. He studied the chamber, noting that while it, too, had a hidden chamber, that chamber door was closed. At one end of the chamber was a statue of a single figure, close to three yards in height. From what Dainyl could recall from his one meeting with the Duarch of Elcien, the statue was an accurate representation of Khelaryt. The stone figure held a silver scepter topped with glittering blue stones arranged to simulate a flame. A dozen light-torches illuminated the chamber, many more than in any other Table chamber Dainyl had visited thus far, and in their light, the gem-flame sparkled.
The decorative hangings on the side walls contained no scenes, but only angular and unfamiliar designs. Between the two hangings to Dainyl’s left was an archway and a stonewalled corridor beyond that appeared to end at a wall. His Talent revealed no one near.
After stepping down from the Table, he stood for a time beside it, letting his body readjust from the combination of internal heat and external chill.
Should he have reemerged in Prosp? Confronted the young recorder? No…he might have emerged into a lightcutter beam with weakened shields—or his shields might not have worked for the moment of emergence, and he didn’t want to chance that unless he had no other options. Should he have gone back to Elcien? In retrospect, perhaps that would have been wisest, but he hadn’t made that decision, and immediately attempting another Table journey now before trying to recover seemed unwise.
Finally, he wiped his forehead and walked into the corridor, realizing as he neared the apparent end that it was only a screen wall, with passages on each side around the central screen. Both the screen wall and the lower archway before it had been finished with blue ceramic tile, except for a single course at the edge, done in maroon.
His Talent-senses revealed a large hall beyond the screen wall, with a platform overlooking it. He could sense but a single person beyond the wall. Still, he held his shields as he stepped around the wall and onto the platform. The amphitheatre beyond was dimly lighted by a handful of light-torches. Their illumination was almost swallowed by the size of the cavern that had to have been carved from the stone by some version of the road-building equipment Dainyl had inspected in Alustre. Or did similar equipment still exist in Dulka?
He extended the slightest Talent probe. The entire amphitheatre filled with a purplish light. Dainyl could feel the abrupt amplification of his Talent, but not why. In that light, he saw a young alector, who stood on the platform, holding a bucket and a brush, gaping at Dainyl.
“You’re one of the recorder’s assistants?” asked Dainyl.
“Ah…yes, sir. Yes, sir. He’s not here. I don’t know where he is, sir.”
“I’m not looking for him. I’m Submarshal Dainyl, and I haven’t been to Dulka before. I was looking for Majer Faerylt.”
“The Myrmidon commander, sir? Oh, no! That was my fault. I should have left the screen in the regular position. Fa—” He broke off what he might have said. “This way, sir. This way.” The young alector set down bucket and brush and hurried past Dainyl and around the screen.
Dainyl followed.
Once Dainyl stood on the Table side of the screen wall, the younger alector reached up and turned one of the light-torch brackets.
The screen wall that Dainyl had thought fixed slid forward and to the left, while a section of the wall flanking where the screen wall had been pivoted, revealing a corridor leading to a set of steps—and also concealing any trace of the large cavernous amphitheatre.
“At the top of the staircase, sir, through the door, turn right and follow the hallway. It comes out on the main level of the small tower in the northwest corner of the Myrmidon compound.”
“And if I went left?” asked Dainyl with a smile.
“You would end up in the administration building—that’s where Regional Alector Kelbryt and his assistants are.”
“Are you from Dulka?”
“Yes, sir. My mother’s the trade assistant to Alector Kelbryt.”
“And your father is the Recorder of Deeds?”
The youth swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“I won’t tell him about the screen wall. If I run across him, I’ll just say you gave me directions.” Dainyl smiled warmly. “It would help to know your name, though.”
“Zudet, sir.”
“You’d like to follow your father as recorder?”
“I couldn’t be a recorder here, sir. You can’t be a recorder in the place closest to where you’re born.”
“Can’t be…or shouldn’t be?” asked Dainyl. “Because the ties to the nearest Table are the strongest?”
“Yes, sir.” Zudet’s tone was quietly resigned.
“Thank you, Zudet.” Dainyl turned and headed up the stairs. As Zudet had not mentioned, there was a Talent-lock on the door, but he released the lock before opening the door and stepping through, replacing the lock after he closed the door behind him.
He made it to the main level of the tower and ten yards into the redstone-paved courtyard before a Myrmidon ranker spotted him—and his insignia.
“Submarshal in the compound!” The ranker, clearly older, from the lines running from his eyes and the darkness behind them, hastened up to Dainyl and stiffened to attention. “Sir! At your service.”
“I’m looking for Majer Faerylt.”
“I don’t believe he’s in headquarters at the moment, sir, but the duty squad leader would know for certain. This way, if you would, sir.”
Dainyl followed the Myrmidon across the courtyard. He could see the lower mountains to the west and north, rising high enough in the distance to be seen above the walls, even from inside the compound. The Myrmidon buildings were all redstone, and the pteridon squares to the south were in good order, with most of the pteridons present, not surprisingly, late in the afternoon. One squad appeared to have landed recently and was racking gear. The compound appeared extensive enough to hold two full companies, rather than the one that had always been stationed there.
“Submarshal in headquarters!” announced the ranker as Dainyl stepped through the doorway into the corridor leading to the duty desk.
An undercaptain bolted upright and waited as Dainyl approached.
“Undercaptain Weltak, sir. At your command, sir.” Weltak was worried.
That Dainyl could tell even without Talent-sensing. “I’m Submarshal Dainyl, from headquarters in Elcien.”
Somewhere down the corridor was the faintest muttered “Frig!”
“Submarshal…sir!” The undercaptain stiffened. “There was nothing in the order book that…No one mentioned that you would be coming to Dulka.”
“There is a point to unannounced visits and inspections, Undercaptain,” Dainyl said dryly. He was rapidly tiring of the unspoken presumption that his unanticipated arrival was somehow unfair or unprecedented. But then, it might well be unprecedented, and that was not a good thing, from his perspective. “Where is Majer Faerylt?”
“He’s with Regional Alector Kelbryt, sir. That’s where he said that he’d be.”
“Fine. I’ll need an escort there.”
Weltak stood, immobile. Dainyl could sense the conflict.
“I can take you, sir.” Another underc
aptain appeared, wearing his flying jacket. “Sledaryk, sir. We just landed a bit ago.”
“I saw you racking your gear. Are the skylances all going in the duty square?”
“Yes, sir. Since this winter. That was when we got the orders to change procedures.”
Dainyl nodded in acknowledgment. As he recalled, Faerylt had reported a single skylance lost two seasons earlier, but he saw no reason to mention it.
“You came up from the tower, sir?” asked Sledaryk.
“Yes. Is that the quickest way to the RA?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we’ll go that way.”
Dainyl let the undercaptain lead the way, back across the courtyard, into the corner tower, and down and then into the lower level of the adjoining structure. There they took the redstone steps up to the second level and halfway along a corridor before stepping through an archway into an anteroom.
An alector stood and moved forward as Dainyl entered behind Sledaryk. “Myrmidons are not—”
“Not what?” asked Dainyl pleasantly. “Submarshal Dainyl. I’m here from Elcien to see Kelbryt and Faerylt.”
“The RA is in conference, sir.”
“With Majer Faerylt, no doubt.” Dainyl was being high-handed. He hoped—and feared—that the suspicions that fueled his behavior were correct. “Since I’m here to see them both, I’m certain they won’t mind.” He stepped toward the closed door, strengthening his shields as he did.
“I’ll announce you, sir.” The assistant turned and rapped on the door. “Submarshal Dainyl from Elcien is here to see you.” He waited a moment, and then opened the door, gesturing for Dainyl to enter.
The chamber beyond was long and narrow, with a series of floor-to-ceiling windows. All the walls were paneled in a dark cherry, and the window casements were inset in the stone walls, also framed in cherry. The five windows themselves were each less than a yard wide, spaced slightly more than a yard apart, extending the length of the outer wall. Against the inner wall were two bookcases, whose shelves held more small art objects than books. The windows provided a sweeping but interrupted vista of the mountains.
Two men, one in green and one in the silver-gray and blue of a Myrmidon officer, stood facing Dainyl. Neither spoke.
Dainyl strengthened his shields.
The door closed with a near-inaudible clunk.
Purpled Talent-bolts flew toward Dainyl.
His shields held, but the intensity of the joint attack against his shields unbalanced him, and he staggered back against the heavy door for a moment. Then he straightened, widening his stance.
Both the other alectors began to move toward Dainyl, keeping well away from each other.
“He has shields, but not much more,” murmured Kelbryt.
Another set of Talent-bolts splattered away from Dainyl.
From the way they moved, Dainyl understood that they intended to batter at him, probably physically, and even with Faerylt’s lightcutter, as soon as they got closer to him. At close range the impact of Talent and weapons on his shields would be even greater.
Dainyl needed to act, and Faerylt was clearly the less Talented alector.
Still holding his shields, Dainyl drew the lightcutter and fired at Faerylt’s face. The momentary shock was enough for the majer to hesitate, his shields flickering. In that moment, Dainyl fired again—Talent-boosting the lightcutter’s beam through the majer’s less than effective shields.
Faerylt went down, his face a charred mess.
Dainyl turned to Kelbryt, who lunged toward the submarshal.
Dainyl wrapped his own shields around Kelbryt, contracting them, so that nothing escaped—not sound, not energy.
For a time, only the heavy sound of Dainyl’s breathing filled the chamber.
A heavy thud followed as the dead form of Kelbryt dropped forward onto the stone floor with an impact that reverberated through the stone.
Dainyl took several steps and rested against the table desk, his lightcutter trained on the door to the chamber. No one entered.
As he tried to regain some modicum of strength, he considered what had happened. Kelbryt…the name was familiar, yet he’d never met the regional alector, not that he knew. Zudet had to have told his father that Dainyl had arrived, and the recorder must have warned the RA. If not that, then they had already planned for his arrival. Dainyl didn’t care for either alternative. He also had to ask himself what he was missing. While he had no doubts that Brekylt and Alcyna were scheming to grab power in some fashion or another, he had yet to find any concrete evidence of such a plot—except the attacks.
Was he looking in the right place? Could Shastylt have sent him out, and set up the attacks?
Dainyl nodded. That was also possible.
What about the recorders? In escaping the attacks from them through the Tables, had he discovered a power about the Tables that they did not wish discovered? Could it be the strange underground chamber that amplified Talent? Both were possible, but, if so, that also suggested that the Recorder of Deeds in Dulka was either allied with the plotters or had deceived them into thinking someone else had ordered Dainyl’s removal.
From his meeting with the Duarch of Elcien, he was more than certain that Khelaryt was not behind the attacks, but Shastylt could be. Zelyert could be, and, of course, Alcyna and Brekylt.
Dainyl waited until both bodies had vanished into dust. By then he was breathing normally, but dull aches suffused his body, reminding him that he was still not fully recovered from the injuries suffered in Dramur. He also felt very exposed. After what had just happened, he had few choices but to barge ahead, a tactic counter to the quiet, behind-the-scenes expertise that had gotten him to where he’d been selected as Operations Director for the Myrmidons. He smiled wryly. Now…remaining behind the scenes was more than a little unlikely.
He held the lightcutter at the ready as he stepped forward and opened the outer door.
The assistant who had opened the door turned pale as he saw Dainyl. “Submarshal? Sir?”
“Apparently, I intruded upon an argument of some sort. Majer Faerylt was attacking the regional alector with both his sidearm and Talent. I wasn’t able to stop the majer except by killing him, and he had already murdered the regional alector.” Dainyl really didn’t care if the assistant knew the truth. His cool voice became harder and colder. “That is exactly what you will report to High Alector Brekylt, as well as to the High Alector of Justice. Is that absolutely clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If there are any more arguments or disturbances here in Dulka, I will hold you directly and personally responsible—immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” The man’s eyes lowered, and he swallowed.
Sledaryk stood by the outer door, waiting.
“Back to Myrmidon headquarters, Undercaptain.”
“Yes, sir!”
Beneath the formality of Sledaryk’s response, Dainyl detected a vague sense of satisfaction.
They had made it all the way back to the corner tower and had started across the Myrmidon compound before the undercaptain spoke again.
“What happened, sir?”
“You heard, Sledaryk. That’s what happened. Majer Faerylt apparently thought he was far better than he was, and far more important.” The last sentence was certainly true enough. “I want to speak to all the officers. Immediately, and I don’t care where they are.”
“Yes, sir.”
While Sledaryk passed the word, Dainyl seated himself in the commander’s study, behind the desk that had once been Majer Faerylt’s, his eyes taking in everything in the chamber in turn. There were no personal artifacts, not that he could see. Not a one. He might have missed a small item that had personal significance to the late majer, but it was clear that Faerylt had not been a sentimental or overtly prideful officer—and that suggested arrogance to Dainyl.
“Sir?” offered Sledaryk from the study door. “Everyone’s here.”
“Come in.” Dainyl stood,
waiting, surveying the four junior officers as they entered the study and stood facing him. Finally, he spoke. “For the record, I am Submarshal Dainyl. I’ve been conducting unannounced inspection tours all across Corus. When I went to meet Majer Faerylt and the RA, I discovered the majer had murdered Alector Kelbryt, and I was forced to kill him in order to stop him from doing the same to me.”
None of the four looked surprised.
Dainyl waited, once more, before speaking. “I’ve met Sledaryk and Weltak. I don’t recall meeting any of you before. If I have, please excuse me. Matters have been rather…intense here.” He looked at the female undercaptain.
“Lyzetta, sir. I’m the junior undercaptain. Klynd is the senior undercaptain.”
Dainyl shifted his gaze to the officer beside her. “Is that correct, Klynd?”
The man looked squarely at Dainyl. “Yes, sir.”
“Then, for the moment, you’re the acting commander of Seventh Company. Once we’re done here, choose someone to act as squad leader in your place.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl surveyed the four, slowly, both with his eyes and his Talent-senses. “What is so important to keep from a submarshal that both a majer would attack me and an RA?” He sensed surprise from Lyzetta and Weltak, but none of the four spoke. After a moment, he went on. “I can see that acting Captain Klynd and Undercaptain Sledaryk are not surprised and have some thoughts along those lines. Now…we can draw this out, and I’ll find out, and be even more displeased, or you two can explain and make the process far less painful.”
Sledaryk paled, while Klynd moistened his lips.
They exchanged glances, and Sledaryk nodded to his senior.
“It’s like this, Submarshal,” Klynd began. “When the High Alector of the East assigned his son as the regional alector three years ago, that’s when Submarshal Alcyna promoted Faerylt to majer. With the new RA and the majer being close, we started getting more supplies. Not a lot more, but before that, we got what we needed. The majer said we’d be needing reserves. Sure enough, the summer before last, the RA hired the locals to begin building a new compound for us. It’s almost finished. Looks like there’s room for more than two companies. Last year, they added to the Cadmian compound out on the high road and transferred another two companies of Cadmians here.”
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