“Yes, sir. Except the one time we went to Hafin. So far as I know, none of the veterans you brought back were ever in the south.”
“Thank you.” Alucius turned back to Feran.
“Are you sure that all these places aren’t what turned your hair gray?” Feran’s expression and tone were deadpan, but Alucius could sense the amusement behind the lack of expression.
“No. I was just born worried. Herders are, you know.”
“For someone so worried, you’re awfully eager to get into nasty positions.”
“That’s only to avoid nastier ones,” Alucius quipped back.
“You’re still an optimist, I see.”
“Always.”
As they neared the former Senob Post, the road flattened, and they rode past weathered earthen berms to the south—the site of a former Southern Guard attack base, one that Alucius remembered all too well. His lips curled into a faint and ironic smile.
Before that long, they were approaching the post itself, almost a vingt east of where the high roads intersected. The post had walls half a vingt on a side and four yards high. The heavy timbered gates were bound with dark iron and were open. Each was only about three yards wide. The paving stones of the approach lane and the courtyard were dusty, and there were faint streaks of rust on the huge iron hinges of the gates. As he rode through the gates, Alucius scanned the second, inner gates, designed to be closed by sliding forward along channels in the stone paving. He could see all too much sand and grit in the channels, and those channels had always been clean when Alucius was a Matrite squad leader.
They had barely reined up in the wide, stone-paved courtyard when four lancers and a gray-haired colonel appeared, moving quickly.
Alucius recognized him. “Colonel Jesopyr. Majer Alucius. We’re under orders to Southgate and Marshal Alyniat.”
“Majer Alucius! I had heard that we might be seeing some reinforcements headed to Southgate, but I hadn’t expected you. And a majer now!” Jesopyr beamed. “Not that you’re not most welcome. Most welcome.”
Alucius smiled wryly. “We have three companies here, the Fifth from the Northern Guard, and the Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth from the Southern Guard. The Lord-Protector prevailed upon me.”
“I imagine he did.” Jesopyr looked to Feran and back to Alucius. “You and your overcaptain will be our honored guests for the evening meal. You’d be our guests in any case, but you’re most honored. It’s scarcely every day we have the only officer who’s won the stars of three nations and lived to tell of it. I even have a few bottles of a good vintage left.”
“We’ll enjoy that. As I said, we’ve got three companies here. Can you handle that?”
“We’re down to three squads. I doubt you’ll be a problem. Jeron and Ghujil here will help get your men settled. The officers’ quarters aren’t bad, and they’re in the wing just ahead. There aren’t any senior officers’ quarters, so pick whatever empty rooms suit you.”
“Thank you.”
The two lancers stepped forward.
“The stables are ahead and to the right,” Alucius said.
“Column, forward!”
Alucius left Feran and the captains to sort out quarters for the lancers and squad leaders. After unsaddling and grooming the gray, he quickly took one of the vacant officer’s rooms—he had the feeling it had once been Captain Dynae’s, the commander of Thirty-second Company when Alucius had been a Matrite lancer—and headed for the library, on the off chance that some of the maps might have been left, at least the older ones.
As he walked down the stone-floored corridor, he couldn’t help but note that the floors were dusty and had lost the gleaming polish of the days when he’d been a Matrite lancer and later a squad leader. Most of the wall lamps were missing from their brackets, and the walls showed smears here and there that Captain Hyrlui would never have tolerated when she had commanded the Matrite outpost. Alucius shook his head. How the years had changed things.
At the end of the corridor, he stopped, then stepped toward the door behind which there had once been a library. He pressed on the lever, and the door opened. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and looking across the shelves. From what he could tell, the library remained much as he recalled, with even the map racks in one corner. Some of the shelves were emptier than he remembered, but it appeared as though most of the books remained. Alucius found it hard to believe that the library had been left, but then, books were heavy and on short notice hard to burn. Also, they were all written in Madrien, and the library was close to the officers’ quarters, which might have discouraged wanton vandalism.
Alucius found that one of the wall lamps actually had oil, and between his belt knife and his Talent, got it clean enough to burn. He put it in the sconce over the desk he’d used years before to study maps, and lit it. Then he began to search for what he needed, stacking the most likely maps and books on one side of the desk.
The first thing he needed to find was to see if the way stations on the highway to Southgate were shown anywhere. Then, he wanted to see if there were topographical maps of the hills around Southgate. He thought there might be, because there had been such maps for all of Madrien, clearly copies of more ancient ones, but most topography didn’t change that rapidly.
Almost two glasses passed before the door opened.
Feran peered in the doorway. “Someone said you might be here. What are you doing?”
Alucius did not look up. “Studying the maps for the areas to the west.”
“How did you—You’ve used this library before?”
“Years ago. I hoped it was still here.”
Feran stopped and picked up one of the dusty volumes, opening it, then setting it down. “It’s in Madrien…I guess.”
“They all are,” Alucius said absently, jotting down the vingtage between back roads on the northeast sector outside Southgate.
“You read Madrien, too?”
“I learned when I was here.”
“I should have known…” Feran shook his head. “I suppose you’ve read every book in here.”
“No. Some of them. Pretty near all the histories and map books. Some of the tactics manuals.”
“We’re supposed to be in the mess before long. The colonel seems fond of you.”
“I like him. He’s honest and says what he means. They were smart to put him in charge of the outpost here.” Alucius jotted down the last of the figures. “I may have to take some of these maps. No one else seems to have known they were here.”
“How would they?”
“They could have looked,” Alucius suggested, rising from behind the map desk. “Let me go wash up, and I’ll join you in a moment.”
“You keep thinking that the rest of us should be as bright as you are, Majer, reading and speaking three languages, and…whatever…” Feran snorted. “We aren’t. We’re just poor lancer officers who didn’t want to be crafters or holders, slaving until we died.”
Alucius stopped. He looked at Feran. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been short.”
“You weren’t short…but sometimes you forget…” Feran left the words hanging.
“I won’t be long.”
As he headed for the washroom, Alucius considered Feran’s words. He certainly didn’t think he was that much brighter than most officers. There was so much he didn’t know, and it made sense to figure out as much as possible before it was too late. But he had been born with advantages—his grandsire, for one, and his mother, for another. And he’d gained another advantage with Wendra. Feran was right. Most lancers were in either the Northern Guard or Southern Guard because their alternatives were worse. The Guard life was better than what they had known. For Alucius, it was to be handled as a means to holding on to what he had outside the Guard, and his life outside the Guard was better than in it.
He washed quickly and was relieved to get a smile from Feran when he rejoined the older officer outside the mess.
“The co
lonel said something about good wine?” asked Feran.
“He offered very good wine when he was in charge of Krost Post.”
“I could use some.”
“Sirs?”
Alucius turned to see Deotyr and Jultyr walking down the inside corridor toward them.
The four entered the mess together to find Colonel Jesopyr and a captain waiting.
“Colonel,” offered Alucius.
“Majer. This is a treat for Captain Kuttyr and me,” added the colonel. “These days, our mess usually is just the two of us.”
“We’re happy to enlarge your table,” Alucius declared. “In fact, we’ll be here for another day, if at all possible. We’ve been on the road for nearly two weeks, and—”
“Say no more! You and your men are more than welcome.” Jesopyr walked to the table against the wall. There he picked up one of the ten or so amber-colored bottles set at the back. He twisted the corkscrew, then pulled out the cork. “This is one of the best reds. That is,” he added apologetically, “one of the best reds that a Southern Guard officer could cart here.” He opened a second bottle as well, then gestured. “Do be seated. Majer…here, Overcaptain…You captains sit where you want.”
Jesopyr stepped back to the table and half filled the plain glass goblet before Alucius, then filled the other five goblets, emptying the first bottle in the process. Then he lifted his own goblet. “To our guests. May they travel to Southgate in health and once more serve the cause of freedom both effectively and successfully, and may we see them all upon their safe return.”
“Thank you.” Alucius lifted his own goblet. “And to your hospitality.”
The wine was good, but even Alucius could tell it was not as good as what the colonel had been able to offer at Krost years earlier. Then, it was far better than anything Alucius had tasted in some time, except for the white wine at Krost on the way to Hyalt.
“The food is somewhat plainer here,” the colonel said.
A pair of troopers in white jackets appeared. The plates they set before each officer held a single round slice of something, covered with a dark glaze.
“Cactus heart, with berry glaze,” explained Jesopyr. “No one in Madrien knows how good it is, and so we have it to ourselves.”
Alucius wondered if it tasted like prickle, and took a small slice to begin with. He was relieved that it was melonlike in taste, if somewhat crunchy.
“If I might ask, Majer…did you have the opportunity to stop at Krost Post?”
“We did, sir. That was where Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth Companies joined us. We did some joint training there with Captain Deotyr and Jultyr.” Alucius inclined his head in the direction of the two captains. “Colonel Jorynst had said you’d been posted west, but he didn’t seem to know where.”
“Jorynst wouldn’t know where his head was if it weren’t attached, and that assistant of his, Fedosyr, wasn’t any better. I tried to get Fedosyr discharged, but headquarters would never listen. Had friends in Tempre, I guess. I never was much for that.” Jesopyr snorted. “Thought he was a duelist. Always provoking quarrels. Best thing about being sent here was leaving him behind.”
Feran was having trouble concealing a smile, Alucius realized.
“Did you see Fedosyr?” asked the colonel, looking at Alucius.
“Yes, sir.”
“I have the feeling I’m missing something, Majer, and, knowing you, it’s something I might enjoy.” Jesopyr turned to Feran. “The majer can be quite reticent about his own accomplishments. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”
Feran looked at Alucius, then gave the slightest of shrugs. “Majer Alucius felt that the new companies did not understand the capabilities of a trained lancer company. He issued all three companies rattan wands and held exercises. Majer Fedosyr took some offense and insisted on a personal demonstration match with Majer Alucius. Marshal Frynkel was at Krost Post and also insisted on the demonstration. Majer Alucius disarmed Majer Fedosyr quickly with rattan. Fedosyr claimed that the rattan was at fault and insisted on true sabres. Majer Alucius disarmed him even faster. Majer Fedosyr pulled a hidden pistol and shot Majer Alucius. Majer Alucius, although wounded, killed Majer Fedosyr with one slash.”
“Better death than the sandsnake deserved,” Jesopyr replied. “Officers like that give the Guard a bad name. Where was what’s his name—Jorynst—during all this?”
“He was absent,” Alucius said, “but Marshal Frynkel accepted his resignation the next morning.”
“Would have loved to see it.” The colonel laughed. The laugh died out. “That Frynkel…if he weren’t so devoted to Lanachrona, he’d be as bad as Fedosyr. Probably set the whole thing up to get rid of them both so that he could claim to Fedosyr’s friends that the snake did himself in. Fedosyr did, of course. From what they say, not an officer in three lands can match you, Majer.”
“I’ve been fortunate,” Alucius demurred.
“Ha! You’re the kind who makes his own luck. So…after they carted off Fedosyr’s miserable carcass, what happened?”
“We rode to Hyalt and destroyed the prophet and his rebels,” Alucius said. “We were trying to get the town back together when we received the Lord-Protector’s request. So here we are.”
“Just like that? Like you rode to Deforya and killed four thousand nomads?”
“The rebels were a little easier,” Alucius admitted.
Jesopyr looked to Feran. “Overcaptain?”
“The rebels were easier, sir,” Feran replied. “The majer brought down a mountain on them, but he had to be on top of it to do it, and…well, he was laid up for a day or two. Not like a month when he got flamed by the pteridons he killed.”
“Always love to see a fighting officer…”
While Alucius enjoyed Jesopyr’s frank openness and hospitality, he wanted to change the subject, and quickly. “What can you tell us about the fighting around Southgate? And here?”
“None of it’s good. Not so bad as it could be…” Jesopyr waited as the lancer servers cleared the empty plates and replaced them with cleaner larger plates, then brought in several serving platters. “Mountain antelope, and had to make do with rice and some other stuff…”
Knowing the colonel, Alucius was certain that the dish would be more than just making do. “You were saying, sir?”
“Oh…two Southern Guard companies holding on just south of Dimor. Matrites used one of their knife-throwers to level the gates of the compound there. Once they took the place back…it seems like nothing much else happened. The Matrites repaired the garrison and added some lancers and foot, but what they did with that cursed weapon…who knows? I don’t know how long those two companies can hold the road up there, because Marshal Alyniat pulled the other four to Southgate. Could be that the Regent just left enough to keep Dimor and sent all the rest of her companies south to take Southgate. Now that they’ve got two of those Talent-cursed knife-throwers here in the south to attack Southgate, it’s going to be a mess. We’ve had to pull back. Wyerl had Fola, lock, stock, and hogshead, and then they surprised him with one of the knife-throwers. Cut down him and four companies in moments. Said that the air was a bloody fog…”
Alucius had seen that in the battles for Soulend. He’d hoped never to see it again.
“…had to pull back, of course. We still hold the southwest high road, and Alyniat’s in command now. Reports are that the Matrites are pulling most of their lancers out of the north, riding them south in preparation for the battle to take Southgate. We don’t know how many, but it’s more than we’ve got.” Jesopyr shrugged. “That’s what I’ve gotten from the dispatches and the dispatch riders.”
“Do you know if they have any Talent-wielders as well?” asked Feran.
“No one’s said anything like that. Why?”
“Well…there seems to be some of that happening. This prophet in Hyalt was a Talent-wielder,” Feran explained.
“Ah…that’s why they brought in you northerners. Herders are better at
fighting Talent. You have to deal with those creatures…what are they?”
“Sandwolves and sanders,” Alucius said.
“Talent—that’s not good.” Jesopyr took another sip of wine, then a bite of his antelope before continuing. “No…we haven’t heard about the Matrites using Talent. Unless those knife-throwers are somehow powered by Talent.”
“They’re not,” Alucius said. “They’re nasty enough that you’d think so, but they’re copies of ancient weapons.”
“Hope they don’t come up with more of those. What we’ve got kills enough.”
Alucius could agree with that, silently, as he took another sip of the wine, continuing to listen to the colonel.
82
Prosp, Lustrea
In the dim light cast by a single oil lamp set in a battered bronze wall sconce, the stocky figure in dark blue studied the oblong Table that stood in the middle of the underground room, a room whose stone walls had been reinforced with goldenstone pillars salvaged from elsewhere. Then, he stepped up to the edge of the Table, and his brow furrowed. A faint purplish glow appeared in the center of the Table, coming from a single purple point of light, then slowly expanded until the entire surface of the Table glowed purple.
Waleryn took a deep breath. The glow vanished. He blotted his damp forehead and stood before the Table, continuing to breathe deeply.
After a time, he looked down at the Table once more. This time, the glow that suffused the Table was even. With the faintest of smiles, he concentrated.
Above the surface of the Table, a grid appeared. A handful of sections were in purple, but the majority were red. Waleryn studied the grid. Then, another small section changed from red to purple. A moment later, the entire grid vanished.
Waleryn nodded and looked into the reflective surface of the Table, where crimson mists appeared.
An image appeared, that of a dark-haired and pale-faced man, an image that, in the Table, carried a purplish tinge. The image was that of Trezun. Trezun’s eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled.
Scepters Page 35
