“No, sir. Everyone’s where you ordered.”
“Have half of them hang back and watch the rear, and you and Elbard move up with us. We’re going north, then west. After you tell the other two, you two join up with me, and I’ll brief you on what we need.”
“Yes, sir.” Waris eased his mount away.
At least, the scouts weren’t second-guessing him. Alucius kept a smile on his face as he turned the gray and rode back along the road with Captain Deotyr.
49
Alustre, Lustrea
The slightly stocky, dark-haired traveler, flanked by two Praetorian guards, bowed to the man who sat in the unadorned silver chair on the dais. “Honored Praetor Tyren.”
“You provided most interesting materials, stranger.”
“Waleryn, Praetor. Lord Waleryn of Lanachrona.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because my brother fears me, and a ruler who fears his brother is not one that it is wise to remain close beside.”
“And I should trust a man who would betray his brother? If indeed you are that man.”
“I am not here to betray my brother. I am here because my brother does not trust me, and I would work with a ruler who can use what I know. That is far different from offering to betray a brother. That I do not offer. I offer the knowledge—”
“And if I were to torture you for that?”
“Sure as the week has ten days, you would lose what else I have to offer—freely.” Waleryn laughed. “Almost freely.”
“Almost?”
“I ask for good quarters and a modest stipend. Very modest. Less than the engineer received.”
“What engineer?”
“The one who provided you and your sire with the light-knives. The light-knives whose secrets I also know.”
“Why should I do this?”
“Because it is in your interest, Praetor, and because you lose nothing by seeing if I am who and what I claim.”
“Can you prove what you say?”
“I can offer you more proof than you can believe.” Waleryn smiled. “The engineer’s spaces have not been touched. There is a Table-like mirror hidden within those spaces. I can find the mirror and call up a scene in that mirror.” He paused. “Will that suffice?”
“We shall see.” The young Praetor nodded to the guards. “Take him to the entry of Vestor’s work area. Then…let him guide us from there.”
In addition to the two guards flanking Waleryn, four others guarded the Praetor as the eight men walked from the audience hall to the second floor of the south wing of the Praetorian palace. They halted before an archway. One took a key and opened the door.
Once he was released, Waleryn stepped forward, walking past the main workbench, then to the empty crystal tanks, where he eased around the last tank to the smaller workbench in the corner, tucked away out of sight—a bench slightly dusty and clearly unused for some time.
Waleryn studied the small workbench for a moment, then slid back the green quartz surface to reveal a polished and silvered metal circle recessed beneath the oak that held the quartz top. “Here is the mirror of which I spoke.”
One of the guards stepped forward, then nodded to the Praetor, who stood well back of the crystal tanks.
The Praetor moved past the tanks, but only far enough so that he could see the mirror. “Proceed.”
Waleryn took several deep breaths. After a time he concentrated, staring deeply into the ruby mists that appeared, tinged somehow with both purple and pink. Shortly, the mists cleared and revealed the audience hall in Tempre, where the Lord-Protector sat upon a white onyx throne, with a blue crystal glittering at the spire at the top of the back of the throne.
“Another, if you will.”
Waleryn concentrated, this time bringing up an image of the audience hall they had so recently departed, where one of the remaining guards was talking to another.
A smile crossed the Praetor’s lips.
The amber crystal set in a small metal fitting beside the mirror began to glow, and Waleryn stepped back. “That is all it will do for now.”
The image vanished, revealing once more just the metal, now slightly tarnished, as if by fire.
“Why could you not see more?” asked the Praetor.
“This mirror is not a Table,” Waleryn explained. “Had the engineer made it of glass, already it would have shattered. For a Table to work, it must be linked within the earth, as is the one in Prosp.”
“Is? The building collapsed in the earthquake and destroyed that Table.”
Waleryn smiled.
“You dispute that?”
“The Table that he constructed in Prosp was buried by the collapse of the building, but it is untouched.”
“How could that be?” asked the Praetor.
“The Tables are linked within the earth. So long as the links are not destroyed, a Table cannot be damaged.” Waleryn smiled once more. “Why don’t you send someone to Prosp to see? If you have not already. Or send me with them. Or come with us.”
Tyren frowned.
“Would you not like to have the information that your sire had?” asked Waleryn. “To see what is happening throughout Lustrea without waiting days or weeks for dispatches? Knowing what did happen without having to trust others, when you do not know whom to trust? That is the beginning of what I provide. Just the beginning.”
“And you wish just a modest stipend?”
“And the means to continue the engineer’s work, so that you and all Lustrea may benefit.” Waleryn bowed his head slightly. “And I, of course, if to a lesser extent.”
After a moment, Tyren nodded. “We will allow you those privileges, but you will be watched for a time. Closely watched. I trust you understand.”
Waleryn bowed again. “I do, honored Praetor. How could it be otherwise?”
50
In the late afternoon, Alucius studied the camp. Situated on a low hillcrest, it lay a good five vingts to the west of the high road—as an eagle flew—and about five vingts south of where the scouts had sighted the rebel roadblock. The northern slopes of the hill were more heavily wooded, but the mixed firs, cedars, and junipers grew out of steep and rocky broken ground that offered a slow, steep, and treacherous climb for a rider, and much of the lower ground held spiky thornbush. To the west was a long, sloping ridge, mostly open, and the east offered a bluff nearly fifteen yards above a narrow stream. To the south, the ground sloped more gradually toward the narrow road—dirt and barely wide enough for two men riding abreast.
From the hillcrest, there was enough of a vista that the lookouts Alucius had ordered posted could see dust from the roads while riders were still several vingts away. On the ride from the high road, Alucius and the scouts had seen few tracks in the dusty road, and those had been of single riders and carts, not even large wagons. On their ride south and west, they had passed close to a score of long-abandoned steads set on the side of hills that looked too arid to support much of anything.
While the camp was being established, Alucius had dispatched Elbard and Waris to scout farther to the south and east. Even as far away as three to four vingts south, the two had found no sign of riders or posts, or much of anything, nor any sign of recent movement of lancers or large numbers of mounts. That bothered Alucius. Was he being too cautious? Should he have pressed farther south? Or was he missing something?
It could just have been that the hilly land was too dry. Alucius doubted that the lancers could have foraged off the land, even had he wanted them to. The trees were mainly low junipers and twisted cedars, with largish patches of spiky thornbush, and the grass, although long in places, was already brown and sparse, certainly not enough for more than three hundred mounts for long.
“Cookfires?” asked Feran from where he stood to the left of Alucius.
“Small ones, but only if they can find dry wood that doesn’t smoke much,” Alucius replied. “If you’d pass that on to Deotyr and Jultyr.”
“I�
��ll do that. I’d already said that was likely.”
“You ought to be the one in charge.” Alucius smiled faintly. In many areas, Feran was well ahead of Alucius.
“No, thank you. I’m fine on the day-to-day things. You’re much better in battles and fights.”
Alucius had his doubts, but only replied, “Good thing we’re both here.” He lifted his eyes toward the south-southeast, in the direction of Hyalt, supposedly fifteen vingts away. He saw nothing but more of the same cedar-and juniper-covered hills. His Talent had revealed no one nearby except for those of his own force and few enough animals. Those were mainly grayjays and rodents of various kinds.
“Rather neither one of us had to be,” Feran grumbled. “Sir.” He brushed back a lock of the graying brown hair.
“I didn’t exactly want to ride halfway across Corus, either. It’s just that the alternatives were worse.”
“Why is it always that way?”
“It’s not,” Alucius replied with a laugh. “It’s just that way for us.”
“You are so cheerful, most honored Majer.”
“I know.” Alucius’s voice turned somber. “How many really good scouts do you have? Besides Elbard and Waris?”
“One, maybe two.”
“Is there anyone from the other companies?”
“Jultyr says that one of his shows promise. Was raised in the Vyan Hills. Father was a warden for some wealthy landowner. Son tracked poachers for a while.”
“No one else?”
Feran laughed.
“We’ll do what we can, then. I’ll want them all out early, well before dawn. We need a quick picture of what’s out between five and ten vingts, not so much near the high road, but along the hills. There are bound to be steads closer to the main road, but we need to know what might be along the back route.”
“One thing that bothers me,” Feran said slowly. “There’s no one out here, but there are roads.”
“I don’t know for certain,” Alucius replied, “but you saw all those abandoned places.”
Feran nodded.
“There used to be more people who lived out here. Like the northlands, I’d wager it’s gotten drier and drier until holders couldn’t make it here. You also saw some of those hillsides, with all the stumps? They’re still logging the land, and probably most of the roads out here are used for that.”
“You think so?”
“I don’t know what to think, but it makes sense. Whether I’m right is another question.” Alucius could only hope he had reached the right conclusion, and not just about the deserted state of the hillside lands. Time—and the scouting reports—would tell that.
51
The scouts departed well before dawn, briefed as well as Alucius knew how, and he stood silently as they rode southward. Feran stood beside him. Alucius just watched, long after the four had disappeared into the predawn grayness.
“You’d rather be scouting, wouldn’t you?” asked Feran.
“It’s hard, just watching.” Alucius glanced toward the east, but the sky had not brightened with the immediate welling of light that heralded sunrise. “Harder than I realized.”
“That’s the problem of being in command. It’s harder for you than for anyone else.”
Alucius suspected he knew what Feran was suggesting, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. “Oh?”
“You’re a better scout than anyone you sent out. You’re a better lancer than anyone you command. You’re a better company captain than the rest of us. But you’re not sure that you’re a better force commander. And you have to be the best.” Feran shook his head. “Me…I just want to be good enough to survive in one piece. I’m happy to follow you because you don’t do too many stupid things, and you won’t put men in any danger you wouldn’t face yourself, and you like to tilt the odds in your favor.”
“You’re so encouraging, Feran.”
“Admit it…Majer.”
Alucius laughed ironically. “You know me too well. I probably am a better scout. I’m a herder, and I have more experience than most scouts.”
“More experience than just about all of them. You’ve fought and scouted for every land in the west of Corus.”
Alucius knew that was true, but it was the Talent-abilities that made the difference. He still recalled Geran, the older scout he had worked with in the Iron Valley Militia. Geran had no Talent and yet could read the land as if it had been laid out in a book. Alucius still needed his Talent to do that.
“You have to remember one thing…Majer.” Feran’s voice was low.
“What’s that?”
“No matter how good you are, you can’t do everything. You can’t scout and command at the same time. You can’t always lead the charge and also hang back to see where you should move companies…”
“I suppose I needed that reminder.” Alucius still wished he were out with the scouts. He grinned briefly. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir.” Feran returned the grin.
As Alucius walked back toward the center of the camp, he had to wonder. How did a man ever know when he’d reached the limit of his abilities? The Lord-Protector had chosen Alucius because of what he’d done mostly as a company captain, and as an individual operating alone. Could he really command three companies effectively? He took a deep breath. All he could do was listen, learn, and do his best.
Light began to flood across the hilltop, and for a moment the sky overhead was white-silver before darkening into a bright and cloudless silver-green. There had been no rain at all since Alucius had left Dekhron, and that had been the longest time he had spent in Lanachrona without rain. Was that another sign that times were changing—or just coincidence? He laughed softly. Not everything was because of the ifrits and the soarers. At least, he didn’t think so.
While he waited for the scouts to return, he ran through a set of drills with Twenty-eighth Company, then with Thirty-fifth Company.
Despite the drills and the debriefing of the captains, the morning passed slowly, without any sign of riders on the back roads near the encampment. Late morning arrived before the first scout returned—Jultyr’s Rakalt.
Alucius hurried down from the hillcrest to meet the scout halfway up the south slope. He had the lancer—a rangy young man with a narrow face and deep-set and intent green eyes—dismount and have some water for the short time it took to summon the other officers. Then he looked at Rakalt. “Tell us what you found out, Rakalt.”
“I followed the wider road west, like you said, sir.” Rakalt met Alucius’s eyes, then swallowed. “It keeps going west, like you thought. Two or three vingts from here, it crosses a dry creek, then turns northwest. Half a vingt farther, it splits. The road going north is rutted, but they’re real old ruts. Doesn’t look like anyone travels it. I didn’t see any new tracks. The left fork goes southwest. Not many riders and wagons there, but some recent tracks in the dust. I followed it close to five vingts, like you said, sir. By then it was heading close to due south. There’s nothing there, sir. Just bare hillsides. They’ve logged off everything. Gullies everywhere. Won’t support more ’n rats and birds, maybe not that. Now…the tops of the hills on the east side of the road, they got some trees, same firs and junipers.”
“What about the road itself?” asked Alucius. “Could you tell who was using it?”
“Mostly single riders, looked like. Might have been patrols, but the shoes weren’t always the same, not like ours.” Rakalt tilted his head. “Had to be patrols. Only one set of tracks at a time.”
Alucius continued to ask questions, with Feran occasionally adding one or two of his own.
“How steep were the hills to the east of the road?”
“How sturdy were the bridges?”
“Did you see any dwellings or any smoke?”
“Did any of the hillsides look liked they’d been logged recently…?”
After another quarter glass of questions—and answers from Rakalt—Alucius paused, wondering what he
’d overlooked. He took a swallow from his water bottle, as much because he wasn’t used to talking that much as that the day was warm. He looked to Feran. “Anything else you can think of?”
“No, sir.” Feran’s smile was ragged. “Wish I could.”
Alucius looked to Jultyr.
“Ah…yes, sir…just one.”
“Go ahead,” Alucius said.
“Rakalt…sounds funny…but did you smell anything strange…anywhere?” Jultyr’s words were firm.
The scout squinted, cocking his head again. “Smells? No, sir…don’t recall anything like that. No strange smells.”
Alucius nodded. He’d have to remember that one. It made a lot of sense. As he turned back toward the scout, he heard a shout from the south hillside.
“Majer! Dust on the main road—lots of riders, sir!”
Alucius whirled and looked to the south. There were actually two clouds of dust—one a thin and barely visible plume, less than a vingt from the bottom of the slope leading to the camp, and the second a larger cloud perhaps half a vingt south of that—a scout pursued by a squad or more of the local lancers or armsmen. So much for surprise—the idea flashed through Alucius’s thoughts even as he raised his voice.
“Twenty-eighth Company! Mount up and form on me! Fifth Company! Mount up. Flank Twenty-eighth Company to the west! Thirty-fifth Company, mount-up and flank Twenty-eighth Company to the east.”
Alucius hurried toward the tieline that held his gray gelding. Even after running uphill on foot to get his mount, he was mounted and halfway back down the hillside before the first of Twenty-eighth Company’s lancers began to form up. After scanning the hillside once again, he rode lower until he was only about a hundred fifty yards from the road, and with the slope as gentle as it was, only about six yards above the road’s surface. The position, like everything, was a compromise. He wanted his men close enough to deliver withering fire, but in a location where the enemy would have to charge uphill.
“Form up here!” he called upslope.
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