Cadmian's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The issue of spare pteridons was another matter. According to the Myrmidon records, before the recent losses there had been ten additional pteridons in the cavern squares at Lyterna. Why had Elysara indicated there were no more replacements? Was she saving them to keep them from going to the east in the future? Or was that a decision by Asulet? Dainyl had no doubts that the elder alector’s decisions would weigh heavily with the Myrmidon captain in Lyterna, possibly even outweigh anything except direct intervention by the Duarch of Elcien.

  Dainyl settled into his study and took out several sheets of paper, jotting down thoughts and phrases for the report on his eastern inspection tour. He wasn’t about to attempt even a rough draft until after he spoke with the marshal.

  He’d worked for close to a glass when Colonel Dhenyr appeared in his doorway.

  “Sir?”

  “Come in, Colonel. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about the Iron Stem flights. The marshal ordered a recon on Septi. He wants third squad to do it, but they’re scheduled for dispatch duty then…”

  “You’ll have to adjust the dispatch schedule. Have fourth squad take their duty and run a three-squad rotation until third squad returns.” Dainyl paused. “That’ll be down to a two-squad rotation for the first part of next week, with second squad doing a sweep of the Vedra.” He studied the colonel, even as he wondered why Dhenyr had even asked him. That was the sort of adjustment Dainyl had made routinely when he had been operations chief. “You’ll get used to making those adjustments. Just don’t accept a request from the Duarch’s assistants without checking with me or the marshal.” Dainyl had learned that one the hard way.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Once Dhenyr had left, Dainyl leaned back in his chair, setting the pen aside. The colonel’s Talent-shields were adequate, but not impressive. His organizational skills were modest, to say the least. He could be charming, and his record showed that he had been a good flyer and flight commander, but those were scarcely abilities that merited promotion to colonel—except that the Duarch of Elcien would not have wished Sevasya moved from Lysia, although Dainyl did not know why, nor would Asulet have wanted Captain Elysara transferred from Lyterna. Ghasylt and Fhentyl weren’t senior enough, and Majer Keharyl in Ludar owed his allegiance to Samist. The other company commanders were all in the east, and loyal to Alcyna, and, presumably, Brekylt. So Dhenyr had to be the choice. Yet Sevasya had suggested that there were other reasons as well, without detailing them. That was another reason why Dainyl wanted to go to Dereka.

  “Dainyl!” The marshal marched into the study, closing the door behind him.

  Dainyl stood. “Sir.”

  “What do you plan to do, now that you’ve finished your inspection tour of the east?” asked Shastylt.

  “I thought I’d write a brief message commending all the Myrmidon companies in the east for their cooperation, their readiness, and their dedication to the Duarchy, and saying that such readiness reflected most favorably upon all Myrmidons, from the newest rankers to the submarshal of the east.”

  “Excellent!” Shastylt laughed.

  “After that, sometime in the next few days, I’ll be going to Dereka. I know there’s probably nothing I can do about it, but they did lose five skylances there, and a handful of alectors vanished.”

  The marshal frowned.

  “Besides, Asulet told me that it was an ancient city before we rebuilt it. I’m still concerned about the ancients and any links to the skylances.”

  “Submarshal Alcyna has a strategy for dealing with them. Didn’t you tell me that?” Shastylt’s tone was gently ironic.

  “You’ll pardon me, sir, if I’m skeptical about a strategy that costs two pteridons and two alectors for every ancient destroyed. There just might be more than a few hundred ancients hiding up on the Aerlal Plateau—or in the heights of the Spine of Corus.”

  “And you’ll find an answer by going to Dereka, Submarshal?”

  “Probably not, but if I visit every Myrmidon outpost that can be reached by Table, neither Brekylt nor Alcyna can bring a complaint to the Duarches that I singled out the east for inspections. In practice, I don’t have to visit Ludar, so that just leaves the Myrmidon companies in Dereka and Lyterna, and I can claim I’ve already been to Lyterna. In addition, we are not faced with an immediate crisis, and this is a good time to remind all of them that headquarters does issue the orders and to let them put a face with a name.” Dainyl smiled politely. “Besides, they won’t put mere suspicions on paper, and I might learn something more.”

  “There is that.”

  “If you have objections, sir…”

  Shastylt waved a large hand, dismissing the idea. “No…no. You’re right. Now is a good time to make those visits. I’d hope you could make them as brief as possible. We may be facing some other difficulties before long.”

  “Iron Stem?”

  “The Cadmian battalion commander has reported a number of disappearances around Iron Stem. In some cases, his scouts have vanished. Their footprints just ended, he claims.”

  “You scheduled recon for the area.”

  “I don’t know what it will show, but…”

  “It’s close to the Aerlal Plateau,” Dainyl said. “Do you think it could be the ancients?”

  “It’s probably the Squawts. They’re all over the area and even more devious than the indigen Reillies. Either way, the recon should provide information for the Cadmians.”

  “If it’s not Iron Stem…are you thinking about Brekylt?”

  “The Highest reported that certain resources have been diverted to the engineering manufactories in Fordall. This has been going on for a time, and it was handled in a very sophisticated manner.”

  “What are they manufacturing that they don’t want known?” Dainyl knew very well, but decided to avoid that issue. “Is that where the seltyrs of Dramur got their rifles?”

  “It could be.” Shastylt paused. “Or Brekylt could be building something more formidable.”

  “I’ll leave for Dereka tomorrow,” Dainyl said.

  “Do that.” Shastylt started to leave, then turned back. “As before, no written reports about anything involving the east.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dainyl looked at the empty open doorway for several moments after the marshal left. Then he reseated himself and began to draft his report to Alcyna and the Myrmidon company commanders of the east.

  25

  Dainyl eventually made his way home on Quinti, where he paced around the lower level and then the foyer—until he heard the door open. He whirled, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around his wife—tightly.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” He held on to her for a time.

  “Careful…there are two of us….” Lystrana stepped back, smiling. “That was quite a welcome.”

  He nodded, not wanting to say more at the moment. “You didn’t have any trouble in Ludar?”

  “We can talk about it later. I’m hungry…and not so hungry. Some cheese might be good. Some warm bread, if we have any.”

  “Zistele just took some out of the oven.”

  “Good.” Lystrana covered her mouth. “Kytrana is making…some things more difficult. Your mother stopped by the other day. She said uneasy digestion means a strong child.”

  “That sounds like her.” Dainyl gave a wry smile, taking Lystrana’s cape and hanging it on one of the wall pegs beside the door. “Everything that’s difficult bodes for a better future.”

  They walked toward the sunroom, filled with the late afternoon light. Dainyl eased out a chair for Lystrana.

  “I’m not delicate. I’m just carrying a child.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  She laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

  Zistele slipped the basket of bread and a small platter of cheese onto the table. “Supper will be ready in half a glass, alectress.”

  “Thank you.”

  As was their custom, Dainyl’
s and Lystrana’s conversation before, during, and after the evening meal dealt with matters other than matters of the Myrmidons and Duarchy.

  “Your mother said you were a greedy little boar from the time you were born.”

  “I had to be. She didn’t like feeding me,” countered Dainyl.

  Lystrana sighed softly, and Dainyl could sense the melancholy.

  “You’re thinking about your mother?”

  She nodded. “I just wish…”

  “I know.” Dainyl didn’t need to say more. Lystrana’s mother had stepped into a Table twenty-two years earlier, and never emerged. Her father had never truly recovered, and had retreated to Lyterna. He’d only lived another four years after his wife’s death.

  “She would have been so happy.”

  “I’m sure she would have been.”

  Later, before they retired to their bedchamber, Lystrana poured half a goblet of the Vyan Grande brandy into a goblet for Dainyl, but less than a fingerful of brandy for herself.

  “Is that…?”

  “I’m being careful. A little doesn’t hurt, even helps.”

  They walked upstairs without speaking.

  After closing the door, Dainyl sat on the chair beside the shuttered window, holding his goblet.

  Lystrana propped herself up on the wide bed. “Why don’t you start?”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  “I think some of the recorders are watching the Tables for me, but the translation wasn’t a problem.” He paused. “I thought I sensed a green flash, like the ancients. Have you ever felt anything like that?”

  “I can’t say I have. Can you tell me any more about what it’s like?”

  “It’s…just amber-green…for a moment. In any case, when I got to Lysia, the recorder there was quite welcoming. It didn’t make much sense, until she informed me that she was Asulet’s daughter. Likewise, Captain Sevasya is the younger daughter of the Duarch of Elcien…” Dainyl rushed on to inform Lystrana of what he had discovered and what had occurred until he had returned. “Then, when I read your note, I have to say that I was more than a little worried. Today, I spent some time with Shastylt and wrote out my report on my tour. I tried not to worry too much.”

  “It might be a good thing that I didn’t know what you found out when we met with Samist,” mused Lystrana. “Once I knew what to look for with Rensyl’s accounts, the patterns were obvious. I just pointed them out to my Highest, and he insisted we both brief the Duarch of Ludar, rather than the High Alector of Engineering.”

  “I’m glad he insisted on that. There have been far too many strange things happening with the engineers lately. The thousands of rifles secretly fabricated for the seltyrs on Dramur, Paeylt’s efforts to undermine Asulet, and this business with Rensyl. Did you sense any reaction from Samist?”

  “He’s very conflicted, like you said Khelaryt was when you met him. It was almost as though he wanted to hear and understand…and didn’t. My Highest—have you ever met Chembryt?—tried to get the Duarch to see the problem.”

  “I haven’t met any of the High Alectors personally, except in passing at receptions. You think that Samist is fighting the shadowmatch conditioning?”

  “I think it’s more than that. We’ve been forced to allocate more golds for supplies to several of the regional administrative centers—Hyalt, Tempre, and Dulka are the ones requiring more these days. They all have different reasons. In Tempre, the RA—that’s Fahylt—has documented Squawts crossing the Vedra and buying up more grain and fruit, increasing prices at a time of local drought. In Hyalt, Rhelyn claims that he’s having to purchase supplies from Salcer and Krost, with higher transport costs, because neither Hyalt or Tempre can supply him fully. Kelbryt claimed that he had to spend extra golds on helping pay for the remediation of the floods north of Dulka.”

  “Those were in Catyr, some four hundred vingts north of Dulka,” Dainyl pointed out. “Kelbryt had something else in mind. Otherwise, why would he and Faerlyt have attacked me before I said a word?”

  “I didn’t know that, but even chief assistants to the High Alector of Finance can’t speak out too often,” Lystrana replied. “That’s particularly true when the Duarch is being curt, as if he didn’t want to talk about the extra outlays. Especially after we’d already pointed out the problems in the east.”

  “That may be true of both Duarches. They don’t like to hear about problems,” reflected Dainyl. “I’m more inclined to think along the lines Asulet suggested, but I’m not even sure I agree totally with him.”

  “What do you think?”

  What did he think? Dainyl did not speak for a time. Finally, he replied. “I think Zelyert and Asulet are right about the lifeforce constraints. Asulet is certainly correct about how much knowledge we lose with each new world translation, but his real interest is lifeforce creation. Alcyna is accurate in the dangers presented by the ancients, and Brekylt is right about the dangers of holding too closely to a rigid plan. Khelaryt distrusts both the Archon and those on Efra, but he is compelled to obey the Archon. I’m not certain that Shastylt is interested in anything but power, although he’ll use Zelyert’s words to the greatest effect.”

  Lystrana nodded. “That’s a good summary.”

  Dainyl understood what she meant. He really hadn’t offered his own thoughts, except as judgments on others. “I don’t know what to think. Acorus won’t survive long if the Master Scepter is transferred here. That’s clear. It should be clear to most of the High Alectors.”

  “What if it is?” questioned Lystrana.

  Dainyl nodded slowly. “The internal personal conflicts of the Duarches would make sense, and so would all the plotting. Even the Efrans would prefer it, because—”

  “The political second-raters and hangers-on would come here. That would allow the High Alectors from Ifryn and Efra to build Efra without so much lifeforce drain.”

  “But they would need to make sure that lifeforce progress continued here and that they could retransfer the Master Scepter in generations to come,” Dainyl pointed out.

  “We’ve been getting Table engineers,” replied Lystrana. “And lifeforce specialists.”

  “Even the ancients must suspect something.”

  “They wouldn’t have to. In any fashion one considers it, we’re a threat to them.”

  Dainyl looked past Lystrana, at the shuttered window on the far side of the bedchamber. “All the disruptions fomented indirectly by Zelyert haven’t changed anything.”

  “Do you think they were meant to?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  The silence stretched out between the two of them.

  After a time, Dainyl spoke. “You asked what I thought.” He gave a twisted smile. “I think most of those involved know the problem. Each has his or her own solution and plans, and not a single one trusts another. No one’s words can be totally trusted, even when they’re true, because the truth can be used as much to deceive as a lie, and it’s more effective. All we can do is look for acts and signals.” He looked at his wife. “Am I wrong?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  26

  Early on Sexdi, just after dawn, Dainyl stepped onto the Table in the Hall of Justice. He wanted to visit Dereka before Shastylt decided it was a poor idea—or sent Dainyl somewhere else. He let his Talent link to the darkness below and within the Table, and felt himself dropping…

  …into the chill of the translation tube. Immediately, he concentrated on locating the crimson-gold directional wedge that was Dereka.

  Again, for a moment, he thought he sensed the faintest purplish pink shading to the locator for Dereka, but when he extended a Talent line to link with the Table there, he no longer sensed the faint purplish overshades. Nor did he sense anything like the purplish arms.

  With no sense of delay, Dainyl felt himself sliding through the silvered barrier, which seemed to melt away, rather than shatter into shards.

  He stood on another Table, in a chamber w
ith but a single wall hanging facing him, a rendering of a green eternastone tower set against a beige background, and bordered in crimson. The light-torches on the walls were at full illumination, revealing that the bare stone walls, unlike those of any other Table chamber he had visited, were of gold eternastone. The main doorway from the chamber was closed by a heavy door of golden wood, but Dainyl didn’t think it was oak.

  In the open doorway to the hidden chambers stood another recorder. His shimmering black hair bore faint traces of silver, a sign of great age, if not so great as that of Asulet. He had to be the oldest alector Dainyl had met outside the confines of Lyterna, both from his hair and from the dark purple of his Talent. His smile was warm, welcoming, and without the calculation Dainyl had sensed behind other projections of warmth.

  “Submarshal, Recorder Sulerya said that you might be paying us a visit. I’m Jonyst.”

  “The most independent of recorders, I understand.” Dainyl stepped off the Table.

  “I have been called that, just as some have called you the most independent of submarshals. Welcome to Dereka.”

  “Thank you. I’m hoping for a better look at the city than in my past visits. Those were all too long ago, and I really never left the Myrmidon compound.”

  “Few Myrmidons do. It takes a special alector to feel at home in Dereka.”

  “Is that because some of the city holds a sense of the ancients?”

  “It holds more than that. Much of this building they built. Not the interior walls, but the outer walls and the internal structural walls. When the first engineers realized that the only place to put the Table was here…” The recorder shook his head. “We have ten times the space we need, but none of the first regional alectors wanted their people here.”

  “What do you do with it all, then?”

  “The transport staff has the top floor, and everyone working for me has a capacious study, even the driver. It’s a waste in some ways, but…the exterior maintenance is almost nothing.”