He snorted, then looked toward the company, still waiting. Fabrytal rode toward him, meeting him a good score of yards away from the head of the column.
“Sir?” The undercaptain’s voice was polite, but solicitous. “Were there more creatures over the hill?”
“For a time,” Mykel lied, adding more truthfully, “I wish I knew where they came from and how we could handle them better.”
“Yes, sir. It seems like only some shots bring them down. They must only be vulnerable in certain small places.”
“Something like that,” Mykel agreed. “We’ve done what we can here. We’ll ride back to Hyalt along the road that swings westward.” That route would carry them westward enough that a line of higher rocky hills would separate them from the regional alector’s compound. The company would also cover some roads not patrolled before and reenter Hyalt from the southwest. He hoped that they would not encounter more of the strange creatures, but the more he knew about the terrain, the better.
As he rode, he tried not to think about the report he would have to write—and where and how to send it.
52
Immediately after morning muster on Tridi, Dainyl was headed to the Hall of Justice in the duty coach. He was less than pleased with having to use the Table so comparatively soon after the last attempts to trap him. Still, he needed information, and the only one who could supply it—that he could trust—was Sulerya. Delari was probably trustworthy, but Sulerya knew more, and for the risk involved, he might as well go to the more knowledgeable.
If Hyalt had been designed any other way, Dainyl’s efforts to develop a tactical plan to deal with Rhelyn would have been far easier, but then, Hyalt’s strengths and isolation were doubtless why Brekylt had made it the initial staging point in the west. One possibility was that Patronyl, the recorder in Tempre, was not fully trusted by Brekylt and the Duarch Samist, since Tempre would have been far more convenient. Another was that forces could not be concealed as easily in Tempre, but that Tempre would follow Hyalt if nothing were done to stop the infiltration.
The coach halted outside the Hall of Justice, and Dainyl stepped out under the hot and hazy day, one without a hint of a breeze.
“Do you want me to wait, sir?”
“No. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Dainyl turned and walked up the wide stone steps and through the columns at the top, crossing the entry foyer, and then the main audience hall, where petitioners were already gathering. He made his way to the concealed entry, screened himself, and opened the hidden doorway to the chambers below. If someone saw him, so much the better, because he would have vanished in plain sight, and that could only reinforce the mystique about the powers of alectors.
At the bottom of the stone-walled staircase, he turned down the corridor toward the Table chamber.
“Cadmian business, Submarshal?” asked Zelyert, stepping out of his study, not quite blocking Dainyl’s way.
Dainyl stopped. “Yes, sir. I should be back before too long.”
The High Alector of Justice nodded, politely. “You define that rather loosely, Dainyl, but since it’s clear there’s no duplicity involved, I won’t press. Not too much.” Zelyert smiled.
“There are some irregularities involving some Cadmians on deployment, sir, and I need to clarify exactly what they may be facing.” That was absolutely true, if incomplete.
“You’d prefer not to be more explicit?”
“When I’m gathering information, sir, I hesitate to speculate, because, if I’m wrong, I’ve given you incorrect information, and I end up looking foolish. I’d be happy to provide you the details of what I know so far.”
“In a sentence, if you would.”
“The Cadmians in Hyalt have reported some strange occurrences. I need to find out more in order to determine whether we should send back a Myrmidon squad.” If not an entire company, with a few additional measures, if such are even possible.
“Hyalt?” Zelyert shook his head. “Best be careful there, Submarshal.”
“I intend to.” But not quite in the way you think.
The High Alector stepped back, looking very thoughtful, but said nothing further.
Dainyl would have preferred not to have mentioned Hyalt at all, but there was no avoiding it. While he could have held even tighter shields, that would have alerted Zelyert that his shields were in fact stronger than the High Alector realized and that Dainyl was hiding something. Dainyl just hoped that his reputation for caution would cover his unwillingness to be too specific.
Chastyl stood at one end of the Table chamber as Dainyl entered. “Good morning, Submarshal.”
“Good morning, Chastyl.” Dainyl gestured toward the Table. “You are not traveling?”
“No. I am just monitoring the Table. There have been more odd energies, but nothing like what happened last week.”
Odd energies? Dainyl liked that not at all. Still, he smiled and stepped onto the Table, concentrating on the blackness beneath…
Immediately, he dropped into the depths beneath the Table, depths that now seemed more like a blackened purple haze. Simultaneously, he was aware of the purpled confines of the translation tube and that it rested, or seemed to, upon a wider area of blackness.
He pushed that perception away and focused on the orange-yellow of Lysia, linking himself there.
He thought he sensed a green flash and a longer purpled presence, but he slipped through the orange-yellow barrier—more like a curtain of mist than the obstacle it had once been…
…and found himself once more in Lysia. There was not even a trace of fog rising from his uniform, which only carried the faintest chill.
Sulerya stood in the opening to the hidden chambers, watching him. “I thought it might be you. That was a quick translation. I doubt if any of the recorders, unless they were looking closely, even noticed.” She smiled. “What are you here for?”
“I’m sure you know. To talk to you.”
“Not Sevasya?”
“Not this time.”
“Then, come join me. Close the door behind you.” She turned and walked up the hidden passage.
Dainyl found the Talent lock and closed the stone behind him.
Sulerya sat in one of the three chairs. Dainyl took the third chair, leaving one between them, but he turned the chair so that he faced her more directly.
“You look quite serious, Submarshal.” The faintest hint of a smile lifted the corners of her narrow mouth, but the incongruous green eyes showed no amusement.
“I am. I’m here for advice and advisement.”
“From a mere recorder?”
Dainyl snorted. “You are no mere recorder.” He had his suspicions, but there was no point in declaring them. “That is not why I’m here.”
“Then why?”
“Can any Table be isolated from the others? From outside the particular Table, that is?” asked Dainyl.”
“No.” Sulerya frowned. “Not unless enough Tables were shut down to destroy the entire grid, but you’d have nothing then, except perhaps a thin direct link to Ifryn. Each Table was designed to be brought on the grid independently.”
“Then, they can be shut down.”
“It has happened. Occasionally, a crystal or something has failed. It’s not really a problem. The grid will operate with as few as ten Tables, but that risks instability. It initially operated with something like seven, but the translation volumes were far less. Supposedly, it could operate with six, perhaps five, but I wouldn’t want to try to translate under those conditions.”
“How did they translate in the beginning, then?”
“With great difficulty.” Sulerya laughed. “It would have taken more Talent, and probably the help of recorders at each Table. I’m only guessing, though.”
“Could you teach me how to shut one down?”
Dainyl could sense the recorder tightening within herself. She did not reply.
“You
could, then. The question is whether you can trust me with that knowledge.”
“You are asking a great deal, and it is knowledge that is not to be trifled with. It is also supposed to be retained only by the recorders and a few engineers.”
Dainyl waited.
“Why do you want it?”
“Because it may be necessary to prevent a greater evil.”
“That’s a very convenient reply.” Her tone was dry.
“Then I will ask of you what you asked of me. Until and unless you can verify independently what I am about to tell you, will you keep the information to yourself?”
“Even if I do not agree to instruct you?”
“Especially if you do not agree to instruct me.”
“I knew you were trouble when you first appeared here.”
“Then why did you and your father help me?”
“As many have said throughout history, the alternative was worse. Besides,” she added with a harsh but soft chuckle, “you are honorable, and so few are these days. You’re also good looking, and I don’t see many alectors who are both.” After a moment, she said, “You were going to tell me why I should help you.”
“We believe that Rhelyn is building some type of force in Hyalt. We believe it is part of Brekylt’s plans against Khelaryt.”
“There have been a number of translations there,” Sulerya affirmed. “Although it is hard to determine for certain, many appear to be coming from Alustre, and some from Dulka.”
“The force may well consist of alectors from Ifryn. We may have to isolate Hyalt, but how can we do that if they can send equipment and alectors through the Table?”
“Equipment?”
“Components of road-building equipment configured to act like skylances.”
“You know this?”
“We know that strange things are happening in Hyalt. We know that significant engineering resources have been diverted in Alustre and Fordall, and that the engineers involved suffered fatal mishaps before they could be questioned by the High Alector of Justice. If we wait to make plans until everything is clear…”
“You’re not planning something immediate?”
“Not without more evidence,” Dainyl admitted. “I can’t plan, though, until I know more about Hyalt and Tables. That’s why I’d like to know how a Table can be turned off.”
“I will teach you on one condition. That you promise never to reveal the technique or to discuss it with anyone who does not already know.”
“That’s recorders and Table engineers?”
“Master Table engineers.”
“I agree. I hope I do not have to use it.”
She smiled sadly. “That you, of all Myrmidons, have to ask, is a measure of how desperate times indeed are.” She stood. “We’ll go back to the Table.”
Dainyl followed Sulerya, letting her reopen the hidden door. He noted that she added a second Talent-lock to the outer door.
“It won’t stop the most Talented—like you—but there’s no one around here that Talented.”
Dainyl opened his mouth to protest.
“Don’t say a word, Submarshal. You’re more Talented than most High Alectors.”
“I had very little Talent, so little that I was barely accepted into the Myrmidons.”
“That’s one of the secrets about Talent. The truly great Talents develop late. It’s why it’s easy for those in control to hold it. Those who might challenge them can be discovered before their abilities are fully mature. You were fortunate to spend so much time in the Myrmidons, where no one looked. You would have been discovered years ago if you’d been an assistant.”
Dainyl wondered if his mother had known that—or if she’d just been disappointed that he had showed so little Talent early on.
“The Table looks solid,” Sulerya began. “It is not. The surface is mirrorlike, but it is composed of thousands and thousands of identical tiny crystals that hold and store energy. The genius of their design is that they are stable when charged. They draw their energy from the world’s very lifeforce. That is why there can never be many…”
Dainyl listened, intently.
“…the controls are within the Table itself and, after the Table is first activated, can only be controlled by Talent…”
“Is there a special key or code?” asked Dainyl.
“No. The key is the combination of knowledge and Talent. A recorder also has the advantage of knowing how to operate the Table.”
“Your father is effectively a recorder, then.”
“Yes. Now…follow me with your Talent, carefully please.”
Dainyl created the narrowest of Talent-probes to follow the one Sulerya had generated.
“Do you feel the octagonal crystal there? Don’t touch it, even with Talent.”
“I do.”
“There’s a brighter octagon, tiny, really, on the underside. If you pulse Talent through that small octagon, the Table will go into an inert state. It will retain power, but it cannot operate until a second, and stronger pulse is sent. Remember, it takes a moment or two before the Table powers down.”
“That’s it?”
“Would you have known even to look?”
Dainyl laughed. “No.”
“Very few alectors have the control you have. Fewer still have the power, and without knowledge, power, and control, nothing would happen.”
“What would happen if I pulsed a lot of Talent into that octagon.”
Sulerya was silent.
“I take it that means the crystal would shatter, or something. Is it hard to replace?”
She shrugged, wearily. “It takes time. The Table has to be bled of residual energy, or it will explode. The recorder can do it, or a Table engineer, but it would be several days. Too much energy, and the majority of the crystals would go, and anyone nearby or trying to translate as well.”
“In short, don’t do it.”
“It’s a good way for most alectors to commit suicide.”
Dainyl understood. “What about using the Table to create Talent-force, either here or in the translation tubes?”
“I don’t recall that being a problem for you.”
Dainyl waited.
“Look for the paired pink octagons. If you focus your Talent through them, they draw on the power of the tubes themselves. That’s why…”
“Using them can upset the grid?”
“That’s right.”
“Would you mind if I try?”
“Gently please.”
Dainyl concentrated, thinking about the arms he had seen in Norda. Immediately a pair rose from the center of the Table. He’d pictured an alector’s arms, but those rising would have fit on a figure twice the size of the Duarch. Quickly, he imagined a child’s arms, and those before him shrank to the size of a full-grown alector. He smiled wryly and disengaged his Talent probe from the paired crystals. Something about the crystals…he felt unclean. He shook himself.
“Very effective, Submarshal.”
“The crystals feel…slimy.”
“I’ve felt that, at times, especially if I’ve used them for more than a few moments. I don’t know why, though. Neither does father.”
“What about using the Table to view events?”
“Try the red diamondlike crystal and visualize a place. Not an alector, because we don’t register unless we’re near a Table. It was designed not to pick up Talented individuals.”
Dainyl had considered trying to locate Majer Mykel, but thought again. Sulerya might catch that. Instead, he focused on Hyalt, the town square, trying to recall what it had looked like in years past when he had overflown it.
The mirror surface of the Table clouded, then filled with a swirled crimson purple mist, before looking down on a golden marble platform set in the middle of low walls, less than a yard high, running a hundred yards on a side, Dainyl judged. Beyond the walls on one side ran an enternastone road, sparkling in the mirror with silver….
“The silver m
eans there’s some Talent there, the high road in this case,” explained Sulerya.
On the other sides were simple redstone-paved streets. The platform held the usual statue of the two Duarches, side by side on a pedestal. The space between the low redstone wall surrounding the pedestal and the outer wall flanking the streets was paved as well, but with bricks, rather than stone, and even from the height displayed by the Table, Dainyl could tell that more than a few of those bricks were missing.
He released the image, then decided to try for a view of the outside of Rhelyn’s headquarters.
This time, the image showed just buildings, the separate headquarters building of redstone, standing on the flat before a sheer redstone cliff face, from which had been carved an ornate entryway. A single cart of a small and square design stood alone just outside a second doorway carved out of the cliff. On the cart was a tripod and a device that looked somehow incomplete, ending in a silver haze. No alectors were visible, except in two places, where other faint hazes of silver appeared.
“They can’t be very Talented,” Sulerya observed. “The Table doesn’t show anything if they really are. That device on the cart—it’s showing Talent…or lifeforce.”
The equipment looked familiar. Dainyl swallowed. From what he recalled, it was a miniature version of the road-building equipment he had viewed in Alustre.
He eased his Talent from the crystal, and the image vanished, the Table surface returning to its mirror finish.
“You may need to act sooner than you thought, Submarshal.”
“It could be,” he admitted. “But we don’t know for certain what that was, and I don’t think that…” He shrugged.
Sulerya’s brows knit in puzzlement. Then she nodded slowly. “You’re going beyond, aren’t you?”
“Looking beyond, I’d say. I’ve been given orders to develop a plan, but not to implement it without the orders of the Marshal.”
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