“No, sir. It has a faint glow in pitch darkness, but we can find neither the source of the glow nor an explanation for why it might glow.”
“There are no records of what Vestor did?”
“Ah…yes, honored Praetor…he did leave some records and notes…” replied the slimmer and shorter engineer.
“Then why have you not used them to decipher the mysteries of the Table?”
“We cannot read them,” confessed the slim engineer. “They appear to be in the ancient Duarchial script, and there is no one alive who can read such.”
“If there is no one alive who can read it, just how did Vestor learn it well enough to write it?”
“We don’t know, sir,” admitted the broader man. “He never talked to anyone about what he was doing. There are some notebooks, older ones that date to several years back, and those were written in Lustrean, and we have used those to reconstruct one crystal tank. We have been successful in rebuilding one of the light-knives similar to those that were successful against the pteridons of the nomads.”
“Partly successful,” corrected Tyren.
“Yes, Praetor.”
“You call yourselves engineers.” Tyren snorted. “You might as well call my staff of office one of the Scepters of the Duarchy. A name does not make it so. You may go. Endeavor to learn something more from the Table, if you would. And continue to construct more of the light-knives.”
“Yes, honored Praetor.”
Neither man met the eyes of the Praetor. They both bowed and retreated from the receiving hall.
28
Under a clear silver-green sky, with the sun just nearing its noontime zenith, Frynkel, Geragt, and Alucius rode side by side on the eternastone road toward Dekhron. Behind them rode two squads of Southern Guards. They had just passed the stone announcing that the former capital of the once-independent Iron Valleys lay but two vingts ahead.
“Majer?” Frynkel said.
“Yes, sir?”
“You will need to present yourself to Colonel Weslyn. Since you now report to the Lord-Protector and are under my direct command, that is merely a courtesy and a formality, but a prudent one. As I mentioned earlier, your pay and that of the companies under you, including Fifth Company, will also be borne by the Southern Guards, as will all supplies and equipment once you leave Dekhron.”
“The colonel cannot be too displeased with that.”
Frynkel offered a crooked smile. “About the golds, no. As I am certain you have considered, he is likely to be less pleased that one of his inactive overcaptains has been promoted to one of the highest ranks in the Northern Guard without his approval and that the same officer will be under the command of and working with the senior officers of the Southern Guard. He also will have thought out that your reputation is both impeccable and unassailable.”
“In short,” replied Alucius, “he will be most polite, most courteous, and doubtless would not be grieved in the slightest if lightning struck me or some other unlikely calamity occurred.”
“That would be a good working assumption, although, if he is as I suspect, he would probably not wish any calamity upon you until after you complete your duties in Hyalt.”
Alucius understood that all too well, because the Lord-Protector might well continue the operation in Hyalt with Feran, and Feran’s success—and long-standing career—would make Feran an even greater threat to the colonel.
Before that long, they neared the outskirts of Dekhron. The town itself seemed little changed from Alucius’s last time there, more than two years earlier. The houses were crowded together and built of the same uneven mixtures of stones scavenged generations earlier from even older buildings. Few of the shutters and doors were painted, and on more than half of those the paint was chipped or peeling, or both. Most of the side streets were of packed clay swirled with red dust. Only the eternastone of the high road seemed fresh and new, if also dusty, and it was older than everything else, Alucius reflected.
As they neared Northern Guard headquarters, Alucius squared himself in the saddle. He couldn’t honestly say that he was looking forward to seeing Colonel Weslyn again.
The headquarters complex was also unchanged, not that Alucius had expected much change in two years. The stone wall enclosed a square half a vingt on a side, and stables, barracks, and officers’ quarters were all of dressed limestone, with split-slate roofs on all the buildings and stone pavement covering all the courtyard spaces.
The two troopers on sentry duty stiffened as the column approached.
“Marshal, Majer…welcome to Guard headquarters,” called out the older trooper.
“Thank you,” replied Frynkel and Alucius, almost simultaneously.
“…was the majer?” murmured the younger sentry, in a voice almost too low to be heard.
“The one with the dark gray hair? That’s Overcaptain Alucius. Majer, it looks like now. He’s the one who killed a thousand barbarians by himself, then was sander-near killed in an ambush and still took fifty brigands down and rode ten kays holding his guts in. Brother served under him. Best troop commander ever…”
“Oh…”
As Alucius reined up before the main headquarters building, he smiled. There had only been twenty brigands in the ambush, and it had taken weeks for him to recover.
“You’ve got quite a reputation, Alucius,” Frynkel murmured with a smile. “The impressive thing is that most of it’s true.”
“Maybe a little.”
The marshal shook his head. “Go ahead and see the colonel. I’ll meet with him after you do, while you’re getting things settled with Overcaptain Feran and Fifth Company.”
Alucius dismounted, then tied the gray to the stone post before opening the worn oak door and stepping into the anteroom outside Colonel Weslyn’s spaces. A ranker looked up, momentarily surprised, taking in the uniform and the majer’s insignia. “Oh, sir, you must be Majer Alucius.”
“That’s right. I’m here to see Colonel Weslyn.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, sir. He was asked to meet with the new Traders’ Council this afternoon, and he hoped you’d get here before it got too late.” The ranker rose. “If you’d just wait a moment, sir, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Alucius offered a pleasant smile, concealing a frown at the extreme deference. Was that because the ranker feared him—thinking that he had a direct link to the Lord-Protector?
The ranker slipped through the door into the colonel’s study, closing the door behind him, but reappearing almost immediately in the anteroom. “Please go in, sir.”
Alucius nodded and stepped through the door, in turn closing it behind him.
The tall and broad-shouldered colonel was already standing behind the wide desk. “It’s been a while, Majer,” offered Weslyn, gesturing to one of the chairs across from him and reseating himself. “You’re looking good…and very fit.”
“Thank you.” Alucius settled into one of the chairs across from Weslyn. He noted that the colonel’s thick hair now contained more silver than blond, and a welter of fine lines extended from the corners of his eyes. His Talent sense also showed that the colonel’s lifethread was normal—the same amber brown, without the second purpled thread that was the sign of ifrit possession. But…there was the faintest hint of purpleness, as if Weslyn had been near an ifrit or influenced by one. That realization hit Alucius like a wall of cold water, and he was silent for a long moment.
Yet, there was little he could do about that, not at the moment. He had no way of knowing if Weslyn had simply met an ifrit, not even recognizing it, or was a marginal agent of the ifrits. And what was he going to do? Tell Frynkel that ifrits existed and that, because Weslyn had been near one, Alucius would have to back out of the mission to Hyalt?
He tried to use his Talent to get a better feel about the vague purpleness that hovered around Weslyn’s lifethread, but the feeling was so dispersed that he had no way of tracking it or knowing if Weslyn were even aware of bei
ng influenced. Or, in fact, if the senior officer was being affected.
“You’ve been tasked with a rather important mission by the Lord-Protector,” Weslyn finally said. “How well you do will certainly reflect on the entire Northern Guard.” The colonel’s smile was warm and professional, and Alucius trusted it little.
“I do understand that, and that was something I had to think over. Yet, if I rejected a request from the Lord-Protector,” Alucius replied, “that would not have spoken well for either the Iron Valleys or the Northern Guard.” He offered a disarming smile and a shrug. “So I thought that the best course was to accept.”
“Ah, yes. If one faces difficult situations, it is always better to try and fail than fail to try.”
“But it is far better to try and to succeed,” Alucius replied politely. “That is my goal. As it has always been.”
“You’ve been most fortunate in that, and the Guard sincerely hopes that fortune will continue to follow you.”
Alucius could sense that Weslyn was suggesting luck as the reason for Alucius’s past success almost to annoy the younger officer. So he forced another smile. “We will certainly welcome luck, but we won’t be relying on good fortune. It’s safer that way.”
“That it is. Let us hope you have that fortune as well.”
Alucius paused slightly, then asked, “Could I ask how the Lord-Protector’s campaign to the west is coming?”
Weslyn tilted his head, offering a hearty smile, the false one that Alucius had disliked from the first time he’d seen it. “The campaign is progressing entirely as planned. I am sure that the marshal can tell you whatever else you wish to know on your way to Tempre. I assume he will be returning there with you.”
In short, Alucius decided, the advances were stalled in the northwest, and Weslyn wouldn’t know about the southwest, and the colonel wasn’t about to admit anything. “I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled politely again.
Weslyn returned the smile. “I do appreciate your courtesy in stopping to see me.”
“I could do no less,” Alucius replied. “Not for a commander who has always been most supportive and who has spoken so eloquently on behalf of the Guard.” That sentence did not quite choke Alucius, although it was certainly true to the letter of the words.
Weslyn paused, as if he had not quite expected the answer, before replying. “We wish you the very best in your efforts in Hyalt. I will not keep you. I know you have much to do.” He rose from behind the desk.
Alucius stood quickly as well. “Thank you.” He paused, then asked quickly, “I had heard you would be meeting with the Traders’ Council. Is this a new council? I had thought the old one…” He let the words drift off.
“Oh…this is just a group of traders who decided to meet because they felt they needed to act together in these troubled times.”
“Thank you. I hadn’t heard about that.” Alucius bowed his head briefly. “By your leave, sir?”
Weslyn nodded, and Alucius left the study, closing the door gently behind him.
Feran was actually standing outside the colonel’s office, talking to Marshal Frynkel. “…worried some about the ammunition…hard to get south of the Vedra…larger bore…”
“We made provisions for that…”
Both men broke off speaking and turned toward Alucius.
Feran didn’t look much older…not to Alucius. He had the same brown hair, except with a touch more gray, the same deep lines radiating from the corners of his eyes, gray eyes that still held the hint of a twinkle, and a sense of not taking everything in life too seriously—only the important matters. He smiled warmly. “Alucius…or should I say ‘Majer’?”
“Feran…it’s good to see you. And you did make overcaptain.”
The older Northern Guard officer laughed. “Not much before you made majer, I think.”
Alucius looked to Marshal Frynkel.
The marshal nodded. “He also holds a temporary commission as an overcaptain in the Southern Guard. It ensures a clear chain of command.”
That made sense to Alucius. It also suggested a difficult campaign.
“After you and Overcaptain Feran have taken care of what you need, and after I say a few more words to Colonel Weslyn, I’d like to suggest that the three of us and Captain Geragt have supper at the Red Ram,” said the marshal. “Say, a glass from now?”
Alucius looked to Feran.
Feran nodded.
“Yes, sir,” Alucius told Frynkel.
“I’ll see you outside the senior officers’ quarters then.” Frynkel turned and walked past the ranker straight to Weslyn’s door, opening it and letting himself in.
Feran smothered a smile.
“Why don’t we go on outside?” suggested Alucius.
“Sir? Majer Alucius?” interjected the ranker. “You have the second of the senior officers’ rooms, between the marshal and Overcaptain Feran.”
“Thank you.”
Alucius didn’t say more until they were outside the building, and he had untied his mount and walked the gray toward the stables. Then he looked at Feran. “What’s really happening out west?”
“We’re about to get our asses handed to us, unless winter comes early.” Feran shook his head. “Most of the men are relieved to be headed south.”
“Is this…Regent that good a commander? I can’t believe…all the collared troops would fight…”
“We’ve invaded them. The past fades pretty quick when your enemies are at your doorstep. We’re seen as Lanachronans now. That doesn’t help.”
“Do you think she has gotten the collars working again?” Alucius didn’t see how that was possible, since he’d destroyed the giant crystal that controlled them, but he supposed stranger things had happened. And the Regent had to have done something to rally Madrien.
“We didn’t have enough close combat to tell. They still wore them. Couldn’t tell if they were working. No one’s said anything, and they were tough enough when they did have collars before.” Feran shrugged.
“You at full strength?” asked Alucius.
“To the man. The last five just arrived from Sudon this morning.”
“How many are just out of training?”
“It’s not too bad. Twelve, and I’ve spread them out through all five squads. All the squad leaders are pretty good.” He laughed. “They should be. You trained half of them.”
Alucius led the mount toward the open stable door. An ostler hurried up. “Sir…can I help?”
“In a moment, after I get him stalled and unloaded.” Alucius smiled at the youthful stable hand. “Any possibility of some extra grain? He’s had a long ride.”
“Yes, sir. We can manage that. Oh…you’re in the third stall there, sir.”
Alucius ended up unsaddling and grooming the gray while he talked to Feran.
“…heard there was another of those crystal spear-throwers…”
“…we were on the midroad…said they used it sometimes to throw back the attack on Arwyn…another reason why the men aren’t that upset about going south and not facing the Regent’s lancers…”
“What about the squad leaders you got from Twenty-first Company? Egyl and Faisyn…”
Feran smiled. “Egyl’s Fifth Company’s senior squad leader, and Faisyn has first squad, and Zerdial fifth. Sawyn got sent to Eighth Company…doing fine. Anslym…he got sent to Twelfth. They got hit hard at Arwyn. He…didn’t make it.”
“Sorry to hear about that…”
“We all were. Problem is that Dyabal wasn’t that good a captain.”
Alucius frowned. “Dyabal?”
“Dysar’s youngest brother—stepbrother really.”
Alucius nodded. Somehow, that figured.
Before all that long, or so it seemed to Alucius, he had stowed his gear in the second room on the upper level of the quarters, the same room he had had once before—a good six yards by four, with a double-width bed, a large writing desk, twin wall lamps, an armoire, a weapons rack, b
oot trees, and an attached washroom. All of that was a far cry from where he had started years before as a conscript in a long barracks with over a hundred other lancers.
Feran was waiting outside when Alucius finished washing up.
“First time I’ve been put up in the fancy quarters,” Feran said.
“It’s only the second time here for me.”
“They have to for you,” Feran pointed out. “You know that you’re the fourth-ranking officer in the entire Northern Guard?”
“Fourth-ranking?”
“There’s Weslyn, and his deputy—”
“Is that still Imealt?”
Feran nodded and continued, “and there’s Majer Lujat. He’s in charge of everything in North Madrien.”
“How is he? I’ve never met him.”
“Not bad. Not quite so good as you in sensing what’s happening in a battle, but he listens to his captains and squad leaders, especially the senior squad leaders, because a lot of the captains aren’t that good.”
“Why not?”
“Weslyn picked them,” Feran said dryly. “Anyway, Majer Lujat’s got a good feel for what companies can do what.”
“And he’s still in command?”
“The colonel has to report results to the Lord-Protector,” Feran said dryly. “And Majer Lujat is only about three years from a full stipend. He’s made it clear that he has no interest in serving in Dekhron.”
“Smart man,” murmured Alucius.
“I thought you were, until I heard you’d agreed to this,” Feran said, the faintest smile appearing in his eyes.
“I didn’t see that I had much of a real choice. If the Lord-Protector has to shift—”
“I know. Same tale, told again. No support, and the Guard pulls back to defend the southern part of the Iron Valleys. You herders get squeezed again.” After a moment, Feran asked. “How’s your wife?”
“Lovely…helpful, and more able than I’d ever have believed.” Alucius almost had said that Wendra was more Talented. He’d have to get back into the habit of being more closed-mouthed now that he was off the stead.
“Can’t tell you’re still in love or anything.”
Scepters Page 11
