“Pay doesn’t mean much to a man with a stone bed and a coverlet of earth.”
“That’s true. We both know that quarrying is hard work. That’s why the pay is high already. Several men have had injuries from the work. But I don’t believe anyone has died, or even been injured by the cats. You’re suggesting additional pay for something that hasn’t happened.”
“You’re a hard man, Majer.”
“I’m being fair, Craftmaster. The Cadmians are taking the greater risks, and they get paid far less for a day’s work. No one is compelling the quarrymen to work the stone. If we weren’t building the new compound and protecting the quarrymen, they’d have no work.”
The faintest hint of a hard smile appeared at the corners of Poeldyn’s mouth. “Are you sure you weren’t the son of a factor, Majer?”
“Eldest son of a crafter. He’s a master tiler in Faitel.”
“I’ll trust to that to make sure all remains fair.”
“I’ll do my best, Craftmaster.” Mykel wasn’t promising anything, but he’d probably have to come up with golds or something if anything serious did happen to one of the quarrymen from an attack by a cat or one of the miniature pteridons—and he needed to add that concern to his dispatch report to Colonel Herolt.
“I’ve the feeling you just might, Majer.” Poeldyn nodded. “It’s going to be slow for the next few days. The next course of stone has fractures, won’t be good for much besides underground bracing of wall foundations….”
Mykel listened intently.
49
Dainyl looked at the stack of reports waiting for him, riffled through them, and set them back down on the desk. After a moment, his eyes fell on the thin volume he had set on the corner of the desk earlier—Views of the Highest. He picked it up and paged through it, not quite idly, finally stopping at a section he recalled vaguely. He smiled as he read.
When an alector or an indigen offers a reason for action, or lack of action, or when an administrator acts or sets forth a policy, the discerning alector must always ascertain the structural rationale for such. The structural rationale is the prime and accurate support for a decision or policy, and not usually the reason made public. Anyone who acts, if pressed, will provide a reason for such action, and the reason will invariably support the action, but a rationalization for public attribution and scrutiny is usually not the structural rationale that prompted the action or policy.
His lips curled at the last line. Did anyone above him in the hierarchy ever lay out the true or structural reason for action? Not often. With a snort, he closed the volume and set it aside.
He still needed to go through the reports. He decided to start with the thickest—that of the Cadmian Mounted Rifle regiment. First, he looked at the summaries. Second Battalion was still at Elcien rebuilding and retraining after extensive losses to the grassland nomads. Third Battalion had reached Hyalt and had begun patrols against potential insurgents, continued training the Hyalt Cadmian companies, and had commenced the construction of a new Cadmian compound. Fourth Battalion remained in Iron Stem and was maintaining order and fending off attacks by the icewolves. Fifth Battalion continued operations out of Northport, dealing with fractious Reillies.
There was also a brief section pointing out that, if recruiting and training were begun for replacements before battalions returned from deployments, that policy would bring the various battalions up to full strength earlier and allow for greater retraining before redeploying battalions. Dainyl decided to offer a cautious note to the marshal on that point, suggesting that Colonel Herolt had a valid concern.
Dainyl’s more direct and personal concerns lay with Majer Mykel and Third Battalion. The longer before anyone discovered the majer’s Talent, the happier—and less likely to be blamed—Dainyl would be. He turned to the section of the report containing greater detail about Third Battalion.
…Third Battalion, Majer Mykel commanding, is currently deployed in Hyalt and has commenced building of a new compound there while undertaking patrol actions, in coordination with training the two Hyalt companies, to complete pacification of the Hyalt area, as per the orders of the Marshal of Myrmidons. In addition to dealing with brigands and seeking to prevent attacks by irregulars, Third Battalion has reported several attacks by unidentified creatures. Six fatalities have been incurred as of the latest report from Third Battalion….
Unidentified creatures? Were they wild translations? In Hyalt? Dainyl turned to the pages holding Majer Mykel’s more detailed report. His lips tightened as he read about the giant black cats and the small pteridons.
They had to be wild translations, and that confirmed what he had learned about a number of the unreported translations from Ifryn going to Hyalt. But why Hyalt?
After a moment of reflecting on Hyalt, he nodded. Hyalt had been one of the earlier Tables established, and the Table and a number of facilities were actually built into a large hill or small mountain—well away from the town itself.
Dainyl set the report down on his desk and hurried back to the file room. Squad leader Doselt, the administrative clerk, looked up from where he stood before an open file case.
“Sir?”
“I’d like to review all the First Company reports from last summer to date. If you’d gather them immediately.”
Doselt looked at the submarshal. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
“Thank you.” Dainyl walked back to his study and sat down, thinking. Sulerya had indicated that the recorder in Hyalt was sympathetic to Brekylt and, presumably, Duarch Samist, and the presence of wild translations suggested strongly that the same was true of the local regional alector.
Had Shastylt pulled First Company’s second squad out of the Hyalt area because he knew that and feared that they would be lost if they remained?
“Sir?” Doselt stood in the study doorway with an armload of reports.
“Put them on the desk. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
“Yes, sir.” The Myrmidon placed the reports in two stacks and straightened. “This stack is summer and fall. These here are harvest and winter. There aren’t any spring reports in the files yet, sir.”
“Thank you. If you’d close the door on the way out?”
“Yes, sir.”
Even before the door closed, Dainyl reached for the first report in the summer stack.
A glass later, Dainyl finished the last reports filed by Undercaptain Yuasylt and Captain Ghasylt. There was no mention of strange creatures or wild translations—only accounts of sniping by indigen and lander irregulars and several attempted ambushes by what appeared to be wild Talents, one of which had killed Insorya, the most junior member of second squad, but which had not injured her pteridon. The last report from Captain Ghasylt about the Hyalt mission concluded that the wild Talent had been killed when second squad spotted an ambush from the air and attacked with all five pteridons and skylances.
Dainyl rose. He opened the study door carefully, because he was fuming, but walked carefully down to the duty desk.
Undercaptain Chelysta stood immediately as Dainyl approached. “Submarshal, sir?”
“I’d appreciate it if you would find Captain Ghasylt and have him report to my study immediately. He should be here somewhere. I saw him earlier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” Dainyl turned and marched back to his study.
He had only gone several steps when he overheard the messenger’s comment to Chelysta.
“…wouldn’t want to be in the captain’s boots…”
Dainyl took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. Whatever had happened wasn’t likely to have been Ghasylt’s doing.
Scarcely had Dainyl reseated himself behind his desk when the captain appeared in the doorway of the study.
“You wanted me, sir.”
“Please sit down.” Dainyl kept his voice level.
Ghasylt did not meet Dainyl’s eyes as he sat in the chair across from the submarshal.
; “The latest report from the Third Cadmian Battalion mentions that strange creatures have reappeared, and that according to the locals, they seem similar to the ones previously handled by the Myrmidons.”
Ghasylt did not look up, nor speak.
“I didn’t recall anything like that,” Dainyl said quietly. “There’s nothing in your reports, or Yuasylt’s, about that.”
“No, sir. There’s not.”
“Might I ask why?”
Ghasylt swallowed, still not meeting Dainyl’s eyes. “The marshal told me not to report that. I thought he’d told you.”
“It may have been an oversight,” Dainyl said, striving once more to keep his voice level, “because I was in Dramur at the time, but since I did not know, discovering that we still have strange creatures in the area around Hyalt took me by surprise.”
“Yes, sir. I can see that.”
“Tell me about them,” Dainyl said more calmly than he felt.
“Well, sir. One was like a huge cat, except faster and all black. Another was sort of like a sandox, except it had a triangular horn, and the last ones—those were the ones that we saw most often—were like small wild pteridons. One of those was what got Insorya.”
“I take it that skylances were effective against all of them.”
“Yes, sir. Yuasylt said that the hardest part was hitting them. They just went up in blue flame then, though.”
“I know there aren’t any records, but did Yuasylt say how many they encountered?”
“There were something like thirty of all kinds.”
“Were they all there to begin with? Did the numbers lessen after the squad had been there a while?”
“They appeared every few days for a season, and then they seemed to disappear. I mean, no more showed up. That was when the marshal told me to have second squad come back here.”
Dainyl nodded, then stood. He’d learned what he needed to know, and probably about as much as Ghasylt actually knew. “Thank you. That’s what I needed to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl could sense the captain’s relief as he left the study.
While he wanted to talk to Shastylt about it immediately, the marshal did not return to headquarters until late in the afternoon.
Dainyl stepped into the marshal’s study and closed the door behind himself.
“Yes?” Shastylt raised his eyebrows.
“We have more wild translations in Hyalt, and from the report from the Third Battalion, Cadmian Mounted Rifles, I’d judge that the number is increasing.”
“I don’t recall discussing that with you, Dainyl,” Shastylt replied mildly.
“I don’t believe that you did, sir. That was when I was in Dramur, but it wasn’t too hard to figure it out. The Cadmian majer is reporting more strange creatures, one type looking like a giant black cat and the other like a small pteridon. He also notes that the locals say they’re the same as the ones the Myrmidons handled. To me, that suggests we have a problem with the recorder and alector in Hyalt. Or that the problem that you resolved before has reemerged.” Dainyl smiled pleasantly, shields in place, and waited.
In turn, Shastylt smiled as well. “What do you suggest we do, Submarshal?”
“Before attempting to come up with any plan, I thought it best to consult with you. You have far greater knowledge of what has occurred in the past in Hyalt. For me to proceed without that knowledge would hardly be prudent.”
The marshal nodded. “You are always prudent, Dainyl. It is one of your better traits.”
Dainyl waited.
Finally, Shastylt continued. “You may not know that Rhelyn is both the Recorder of Deeds and the local regional alector in Hyalt. In such a lightly populated area, it was felt that one alector could handle both duties. His allegiance is to Samist, but he has always been close to Brekylt. You might also recall that one of the Highest’s assistants was killed by a wild translation last winter, and the word was that it was on a translation to Dereka….”
Dainyl recalled that Falyna had mentioned something about that, joking that Dainyl might want the position.
“…That was true enough, but what was not said was that he was translating to Dereka from the Table in Hyalt.”
“How many others have had mishaps that way?”
Shastylt shrugged. “I could not say. I do know that very few alectors from Elcien now visit Hyalt.” An ironic smile appeared. “There were few enough before, but now there are virtually none.”
“No one has done anything?” Dainyl knew the answer, but wanted to judge Shastylt’s reaction.
“What would one do? And to what end? Hyalt is viewed as too out-of-the-way, and of little interest to those who do not understand and too dangerous for too little gain by those who do.”
“If Rhelyn is building a force of some sort, he could send them through the Table to Ludar or Alustre.”
“If…that is the question, but…would you like to take the Table there to verify what might be happening?”
“Not this moment,” replied Dainyl. “I would consider it as part of a larger plan—perhaps if a squad of Myrmidons from Dereka were nearby.”
“Why Dereka?”
“Because I could go to Dereka and dispatch them from there. If we sent a squad from here, Rhelyn would know long before they arrived.”
“You might consider developing a plan along those lines, Submarshal. We may need it.” Shastylt stood. “Not now, you understand.”
Dainyl was afraid he did.
50
Mykel blotted his forehead as he stood in the late-day shadows of the old garrison’s west wall. Summer had indeed come to Hyalt, and with it, cloudless days where the white sun burned down out of the sky with an intensity that reminded Mykel of Dramur, although the air in Hyalt was drier, so dry that unprotected skin exposed to the sun for more than half a glass burned and cracked. At least, Mykel’s did, and that was one reason he stood in the shade. He had another report to write, and he needed to inspect the stables, such as they were.
Culeyt stood beside Mykel in the shade. “Hottest day yet.”
“They’ll get hotter.” Two long weeks had passed since Mykel had sent off his last report to the colonel, and he needed to write and dispatch another, but little had happened—except for the continual, if intermittent, attacks by the giant cats at the quarry. So far, none of the Cadmians or quarrymen had been injured, but Seventeenth Company had lost one mount in the last attack. Mykel had observed and supervised, as necessary, various exercises and drills where the three more experienced companies had worked with the Hyalt companies. He had tried to keep the more strenuous drills earlier in the day, when it was generally cooler.
“I can hardly wait, sir.”
Both turned as a wagon pulled up outside the garrison gate posts. Mykel read the sign on the side—TRORAL, FACTOR—and blotted his forehead once more before stepping out of the shade toward the gate.
The council chief stepped down from the bench seat on the wagon, then turned to the driver. “I won’t be long.”
Mykel walked toward the factor and stopped. “Factor Troral.”
“Majer.”
“What can I do for you?”
“When you arrived, you talked of insurgents and that sort of thing.” Troral looked hard at Mykel.
“We’d had reports, but we haven’t found much,” replied the majer.
“One of my men…his sister and her husband have a stead out to the northwest. He went out there yesterday night. No one was there. Part of the roof beams of one of the goat sheds had burned through and brought down part of the roof, and there were burned patches of ground, but no sign of anyone. Strange thing is that most of the flock was still there, and nothing seemed to be missing from the cellars.”
“That is odd.” Mykel didn’t like that at all. It sounded like the miniature pteridons had attacked the stead, but he’d have to see to make sure. It had been two days since any company had been out northwest. Seven companies sounded like
more than enough to patrol at once, especially if he had reduced patrols to individual squads, but after the incidents in the quarries and on the road, he had the feeling that the creatures might well overrun a squad—except for those under Rhystan. Even they would have suffered high losses, and he didn’t like the idea of losing some of his more experienced troopers to the various creatures.
“When I heard that, I told him I’d tell you.”
“That sounds like more than brigands,” offered Mykel. “Where is this stead?”
“If you go north on the high road, you want to take the first lane west past the hilltop with the stone corrals—they’re the only ones on the west side of the road. Then you follow the lane west, oh, a good three vingts until it forks. You take the south fork, the one on the left…
Mykel concentrated on listening, trying to fix the directions in his memory.
“…and there are two piles of red rocks on each side of the lane that leads to the house. Gerolt’s staying there with his eldest for now.”
“We’ll head out there in the morning,” Mykel promised. “If there’s trouble out there, we’d like to stop it before it gets worse.”
“I’m sure that Gerolt will appreciate that.”
Mykel wasn’t so sure about that, especially if whatever company he assigned and accompanied found bodies. “We’ll do what we can, and I appreciate the information, councilor.”
“Might as well get some use out of you, Majer.” Troral nodded, then turned and walked back to the wagon, where he climbed up onto the seat beside the driver.
Mykel turned. He had to get back to work, late as it was, especially if he was going to take a company on patrol in the morning.
“You think it’s irregulars or insurgents, sir?” asked Culeyt.
“I hope so.” But he had the feeling that what they would find was likely to be anything but insurgents.
In the meantime, he had matters to tend to, although he decided to put off writing a report to the colonel until after the morrow’s patrol. That only made sense, he told himself, as he headed for the stables, blotting his brow once more.
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