“Thank you.” Dainyl moved toward the Table.
“Give my greetings and best wishes to Lystrana.”
“I will.”
Dainyl stepped up onto the Table, then concentrated on the darkness beneath. For just a moment, he could sense an aura of purpled pink all around him, but that vanished as he dropped…
…into the chill darkness of the translation tube.
While the purpled pink had vanished, Dainyl felt, as if from the corners of his eyes, although he could properly see nothing, only sense through his Talent, vague lines of amber-green.
Knowing he couldn’t afford to linger in the darkness, he focused on the white locator that was Elcien, linking. It flashed toward him.
The silvered white of the barrier sprayed away from him.
He stood in the Table chamber in Elcien.
By the doorway was a figure in the green garb of a recorder. The recorder did not speak, but watched as Dainyl stepped off the Table.
Dainyl searched his memory for the recorder’s name, finally saying, “You must be Chastyl.”
“At your service, Submarshal.”
At his service? An odd response, given that the recorders officially answered to no one except the Duarches or the Archon. “I’m glad to meet you. In all the times I’ve used the Table, I haven’t seen you.” Dainyl smiled. “I suspect you’ve been well aware of my uses, though.”
Chastyl stiffened, ever so slightly, before replying. “We recorders do our best to keep the Tables functioning, and that includes monitoring their use.”
“I’m glad you do. I’d hate to make these trips by pteridon.” Dainyl inclined his head to the recorder. “Thank you, and a good day to you.” The Talent-lock on the inner door had not been replaced, and he eased past the recorder, still keeping his shields in place, and into the foyer.
Because of the difference in time, it was still late midafternoon in Elcien, and that meant Dainyl needed to check in at headquarters. He could at least catch up on dispatches and any occurrences and not be surprised on Septi morning.
28
After a long week of dealing with training—both his own battalion and the two new companies—and two late nights writing up the required reports to Colonel Herolt, Mykel decided that he had to get away from the compound. Immediately after a late breakfast on Decdi, late being a glass after sunrise, he saddled one of the spare mounts and rode out, heading back down the northeast high road toward Southgate. He felt slightly guilty because, while he had given his officers and rankers the day off, they were limited to the area within two vingts of the compound—at the discretion of their officers. That included a handful of taverns and shops, but Mykel intended to explore somewhat farther—the center of Southgate, in fact. Why he felt it necessary, he would have been hard-pressed to explain.
As he left the compound, on the short stretch of stone paving that connected the Cadmian outpost to the wider high road, he looked to the northeast. He could just make out the subtle change in the road surface, a vingt or so farther out, where the granite paving of the road leaving Southgate was replaced by eternastone stretching as far as he could see to the northeast. Heat waves danced above the surface of the stone.
In places like Elcien, Ludar, and Faitel, the eternal paving ran without interruption through the town. The same was true in smaller towns like Arwyn and Harmony, or small cities like Klamat. Yet, from what he had seen, there were no roads or buildings of eternastone in Southgate.
Why was Southgate different?
He turned his mount southwest on the high road, smiling wryly, because he doubted that anyone could tell him. The fingers of his left hand swept by his belt, not actually touching the leather, but close enough that he could feel, in a way he still had trouble describing, the miniature dagger of the ancients concealed in its special slot.
From his actions, Overcaptain Sturyk had clearly displayed both fear, respect, and pity for Mykel—and all three emotions seemed linked to Mykel’s unasked-for appellation as a dagger of the ancients. Yet Mykel had the feeling that the emotions associated with the term were limited to Dramur and Southgate.
Mykel reached the outskirts of Southgate, less than half a vingt from the compound. The first structure was a tavern, as usual near Cadmian outposts, but the door to the Overflowing Beaker was closed, and the windows were still shuttered. Beyond that was a two-story narrow house, narrow in front, with a deep covered porch. The main section of the house extended a good twenty yards back from the highway.
Two women wearing little more than shifts lounged on battered wooden rocking chairs on the porch. Mykel could feel their eyes on him, but neither spoke, either between themselves or to Mykel, as he rode past the house—certainly a brothel in fact, if not in name,
For another half vingt, he rode past various establishments designed to separate Cadmians from their coins. Those farther from the compound and closer to the main sections of Southgate seemed less disreputable and merged with more traditional shops, such as a coppersmith’s, a cooperage, and a fuller’s, although the fullering shop appeared more dingy than the ones Mykel had known in Faitel, despite its whitewashed stuccoed plaster outer walls. He saw but a handful of people, mostly older women, out on the stone sidewalks that bordered the high road.
Farther from the Cadmian compound, the shops gave way to small dwellings, all with few windows looking out on the high road, and all built around central courtyards. The courtyards looked so small that Mykel wondered how they could offer much respite from the summer heat, but perhaps the brilliant white stucco reflected enough of the sun to help. Still, early in the day as it was, he could feel sweat beginning to ooze down his back, and it was still spring.
He rode slowly, letting his eyes range across the houses and occasional shops. Neat and clean as they were, there was something within Southgate that did not feel right to Mykel. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t put a finger on why he felt that way or what had created that feeling.
As on the ride from the port, the closer he rode to the inner ring and the center of Southgate, the fewer people he saw, and most of those he did see were on horseback or in carriages and far better attired, generally in white. The few exceptions were young women, uniformly dressed in a light gray tunics and trousers, with matching gray head scarves that covered their hair and the lower part of their faces. They carried baskets, filled with all manner of items, from laundry to produce, even small glazed tiles in string bags in one case.
He slowed the mount as he neared the inner ring. When he looked at the center of Southgate, with morning sun reflecting off the brilliant white walls surrounding the huge central villas—also brilliant white—Mykel had to squint, so intense was the light.
He crossed the inner ring at a measured walk and continued to ride southwest along the paved road that led between the walls that surrounded two of the villas. The road narrowed to a width of ten yards. The space from the edge of the road to the base of the walls measured perhaps fifteen yards and was covered in white gravel. Not a single bit of vegetation appeared to mar the whiteness. The sides of the crenelations on the top of the walls showed no interior stone, just a white surface.
As he neared the end of the walls of the two villas, he could see a second granite boulevard, one that curved around a central park in the center of which was some sort of white stone plaza. The street he traversed ended at the boulevard, and he eased to his right and onto the boulevard. The park to his left was edged with a low granite wall, no more than a yard and a half high. Beyond the wall was an expanse of grass, broken by curving stone walks, and hedges no higher than the enclosing wall. The park—if it were such—was empty.
Mykel kept riding. Shortly, on his right, he passed one of the gates to the enclosed villas. The gates were of iron, but had been painted white with so many coats of paint that they shimmered. Behind the closed gates he could only see a stone drive leading to a covered portico.
Ahead, he saw another street entering from the rig
ht, again running in the open space between the walls of two villas. This street continued into the park. Mykel turned his mount down it, toward the center of the park-like area. Once more, the park was separated from the street by the same low granite wall.
The street ended in yet another boulevard, if it could be called that, which circled what appeared to be a raised circular platform of brilliant white granite a hundred yards or so across. Directly in front of Mykel was a stele of white stone set ten yards out into the gray granite of the innermost circular boulevard.
Mykel reined up and surveyed the area. Four streets ran through the park, each radiating out from the white stone—or the stelae set at the four cardinal points of the compass. There were no decorations or statutes rising from the circle of whiteness—just the circle itself.
After a moment, Mykel urged his mount the few yards toward the stele before him so that he could make out what had been carved upon it.
When he was less than a yard from the stele, he eased his mount to a halt and began to study the series of scenes sculpted into the stone. The bottom row depicted men at work—raising a wall, constructing a ship, plowing a field, presumably set outside Southgate. The three images above that showed men riding, hunting, and fighting another force. There was a single wider image above those—it showed thirteen men seated at a table, each holding a scepter. Mykel looked more closely. Standing directly in the center, back of the seated men, was a sculpted figure of an alector—although the stone did not convey the purple eyes or the jet black hair. The alector stood behind the center seltyr, the only one who sat on something resembling a throne. The alector was not threatening, not carrying a weapon, just there.
Mykel frowned. Except for the images on the stele, there was no sign of alectors in the construction of Southgate, even in the high roads. He flicked the reins, riding around the innermost boulevard, so that he could see the three other stelae, but all carried the same images.
Slowly, he rode out of the park—or memorial…or ceremonial plaza—turning his mount back toward the Cadmian compound. As he rode around the boulevard that circumscribed the central plaza, he noted that all the gates to the villas opened onto that boulevard and each gate was set directly in the middle of the wall facing the plaza.
As he guided his mount back up the street between two sets of walls, he realized something else. He’d sensed nothing living in the plaza, except the stunted grass and short hedge.
29
The next week passed slowly, and Dainyl finally caught up on the back reports. He also received a polite note from Alcyna the following Septi, a good ten days after he had toured Dereka, expressing appreciation for the unexpected objectiveness in his report. He had pushed aside his irritation and showed the note to Shastylt.
“Better and better.” That had been the marshal’s only real comment—without elucidation.
While Dainyl felt he should have been pleased that matters were going so well, the quiet worried him as much as adverse reports from across Corus would have. Quiet or not, worries or not, he and Lystrana had enjoyed the warmth of the late spring end-days.
On Londi, he had made an informal inspection of First Company after the morning muster. He had returned to his study and reviewed the latest entries in the master accounting ledgers, but found nothing that suggested irregularities. He had not expected he would.
There was a cough, and Dainyl looked up. Colonel Dhenyr stood in the open doorway, and Dainyl nodded for him to come in.
“Sir, here are the latest reports from the Cadmians.” The colonel handed over a sheaf of papers.
“Anything interesting there?”
“Their Fourth Battalion…you should probably read it yourself, sir.”
Dainyl always read the reports in the entirety—sometimes quickly, but he read them—and Dhenyr’s implication that he did not generated more irritation. Even though he told himself he had asked the colonel, he found he was still irritated. “Thank you. I will.”
Rather than immediately seek out the Fourth Battalion section, Dainyl lifted the thick report, looking at the first page of summary regimental report from the Cadmian headquarters in Elcien, which began with Second Battalion. So far as Dainyl had been able to discern, there had never been a First Battalion, and the lowest denominated Cadmian company was Eighth Company in Second Battalion. In a way, that might have made sense, if the lowest numbered company had been ninth company, since there were eight Myrmidon companies. He pushed away that minor puzzle and began to read the summary from Colonel Herolt.
…Second Battalion, Overcaptain Wekeryt, commanding [acting], is undergoing rebuilding and retraining after returning in midspring after a year and a half deployment to Ongelya. Second Battalion was successful in destroying the loose confederation of grassland nomad brigands, but fatalities and permanently disabling casualties exceeded thirty percent. Second Battalion will be ready for deployment in early harvest…
Dealing with the grassland nomads had been a Myrmidon duty. Sending a battalion of mounted rifles was asking for high casualties. The fact that the numbers had not been higher suggested a fair degree of competence by whoever had been commanding the battalion or poorer tactics by the nomads, or some combination of both.
Dainyl kept reading.
…Third Battalion, Majer Mykel commanding, is currently deployed to the Southgate Cadmian compound. Third Battalion is engaged in training two companies, composed largely of recruits raised in the southwest area surrounding Southgate…scheduled to ride to Hyalt, conducting additional training on route, to establish a replacement compound and to complete pacification of the Hyalt area, as per the orders of the Marshal of Myrmidons. No discrepancies or casualties reported to date on this deployment.
Dainyl couldn’t help but wonder how Majer Mykel would fare in Hyalt. Then he frowned. The casualty levels for Third Battalion in Dramur had been far greater than the thirty percent listed for Second Battalion, yet Third Battalion had been sent out only a month after returning to Elcien. Then, who else could have been sent?
…Fourth Battalion, Majer Hersiod, commanding, is currently deployed to Iron Stem, based out of the Cadmian compound. The battalion is providing support to the local Cadmian forces in maintaining order at the iron and coal mines, and the iron works. Battalion patrols are also providing security against large local predators. Casualties reported to date are moderate…
Fifth Battalion, Majer Druvyr, commanding, remains deployed to Northport, with companies rotating duties along the northwest high road, with garrisons in Klamat and Eastice…engaged in maintaining order between longtime settlers and Reillies recently relocated north of the high road…Casualties light, no recent fatalities…
Sixth Battalion, Majer Juasyn, commanding, returned from a year’s deployment in the Vedra triangle north of Tempre the second week of spring…patrol actions against Squawt brigands and settlements established in violation of the Code were successful, as detailed in the commander’s report. The surviving Squawts, primarily women, children, and elderly men, were relocated to the Semal area…No new casualties reported…
Dainyl turned to the detailed reports of the battalion commanders, making his way through them as well. When he had finished the last of them, he walked to the doorway of the marshal’s study.
“Ah…Dainyl…what can I do for you?” Unlike so many times in recent weeks, the marshal was cheerful and smiling.
Dainyl stepped into the study. “I must have missed something, sir. I was reading the reports from Cadmian headquarters, and I came across the report from their Second Battalion…”
“Oh…yes. That. What about it?”
“In the past, from what I recall, it was judged more effective to use Myrmidons against the nomads.”
“‘Effective’ is the key word, Dainyl. Myrmidons are indeed more effective. Unfortunately, it requires days and days of overflights, and heavy use of skylances, which, in turn, result in grassfires. The grasslands are suffering a severe drought at present…
”
Dainyl understood all too well. “The lifeforce loss?”
“I’m gratified that you grasped that so quickly. Your predecessor never did understand, poor alector.”
“I knew there had to be a reason, but since the deployment decision was made before I became submarshal…” Dainyl paused. “There was one other thing. The majer in charge of the Fourth Battalion reported rather large wolves of what appeared to be a new breed. Is that something we should inquire about with Asulet or someone in Lyterna?”
“I’d heard something about that. How big are they?”
“They’re reported to be close to three yards in length, not counting the tail, and it takes several rifle shots to bring one down. They also have large crystal fangs.” Dainyl almost missed the slight stiffening of the marshal at his last words. “The fangs seemed unusual.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d send an inquiry to Lyterna. Regular dispatch should suffice. It may just be a species that the life-form masters thought had died out, and, for some reason, has found a predatory niche, but it wouldn’t do to overlook it. Asulet will want to know, one way or the other.”
“I’ll take care of that. I’m sorry to have bothered you about the shift in tactics with the nomads, but I appreciate the clarification.”
“What were their casualties?” Shastylt’s tone was close to indifferent.
Dainyl could sense the buried concern.
“Over thirty percent.”
“It could have been far worse.” Shastylt nodded. “That’s better than I feared. Thank you.”
Dainyl nodded and stepped back.
“Close the door, if you would.”
After leaving the marshal’s study, Dainyl returned to his own desk, closing his own door as well. He needed to write the dispatch to Asulet, and to have Dhenyr draft a short letter acknowledging receipt of the reports.
Cadmian's Choice Page 19
