Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “A number apparently do. Colonel Hubar protested your high-handed actions. Colonel Sarthat has demanded that you be stripped of rank and executed for assaulting a senior officer.”

  “I never even raised a hand against the colonel,” Alucius said.

  “He claims you used some herder skill to throw him to the floor and break his nose.”

  “Exactly how many Matrites did Colonel Sarthat kill? How many crystal spear-throwers did he destroy? How many bullets did he take?” Alucius’s words turned icy. “You suggested, sir, that you and Marshal Alyniat and the Lord-Protector needed results. You requested, and you promised. I kept my word. I delivered. How many of those who have complained have delivered?” Alucius’s eyes blazed.

  A reluctant smile crossed Frynkel’s face. “None of them, as you know. That was why Marshal Alyniat breveted you on the spot. That’s been protested, also. All of those protests have been denied. I’d like to send Sarthat against the Matrites, but I don’t want to lose scarce lancers with him. Hubar dispatched his protest before he was killed.”

  “And you’ve been pressing me…just to see how I react?”

  “Mostly. And to give you a feeling of just how unreasonable people in authority can be. That also goes for factors or merchants who feel they have authority. You’ll have to face them as commander of the Northern Guard.”

  Alucius nodded. If the Lord-Protector still offered that, Alucius would need to ask for some additional authority for the position.

  “There are still times when it pays to say that you understand someone’s concerns and that you’ll look into them,” Frynkel said. “Most people aren’t reasonable. They think they are, and they rationalize what they want, but they’re selfish. We all are. It’s a wise man who knows what his own selfishnesses are and who can set them aside.”

  “That’s difficult.”

  “No. For you, it’s clear that it’s not. In a sense, that’s one of the greatest problems you’ll face. You have fewer delusions than most. I’m not certain that you understand just how many delusions most people have. Most people are more like Majer Fedosyr than like you, although they usually aren’t so direct as to cross blades. People have an image of themselves, and they’ll do almost anything to maintain that image. I wouldn’t be that surprised if Colonel Hubar just managed to get himself killed because you did too much damage to the image he had of himself.”

  That was something Alucius hadn’t even considered.

  “Now…the official ceremony is tomorrow, and I’ll present the commendations on behalf of the Lord-Protector.” Frynkel paused. “You do have to wear this one, Colonel, at least on your dress uniform. It’s sufficient, and you’re wise not to wear the stars. That’s becoming modesty. In late afternoon, you’ll have your audience with the Lord-Protector, and then you’ll have an early supper with him. After that…” The marshal shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll be returning to Dekhron fairly soon, but that’s in the hands of the Lord-Protector.”

  “I can see that.”

  “That’s all I have.” Frynkel stood. “By the way, your rank as a majer-colonel in the Southern Guard has been made permanent.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Alucius rose.

  “Don’t thank me. For all that you’ve done, you’ll go through at least as much holding the rank as getting it. Until tomorrow.”

  Alucius inclined his head. “Until then.” As he left Frynkel’s study, the older officer’s words reverberated through his thoughts. While he doubted that he could take more wounds than he’d already taken and survive, that hadn’t been what Frynkel had meant. In a way, he appreciated the example that Frynkel had presented without warning, because it had illustrated how suddenly people changed from reasonable to less reasonable as something dear to them was threatened.

  102

  After the meeting with Frynkel, Alucius had met with Feran and the two captains, then spent much of the day arranging for everything from riding rations to replacement uniforms. Every single item had to be obtained from somewhere else, and each required a different form. By the end of Lundi, Alucius was exhausted, and his ribs had begun to ache once more.

  He and Feran had a quiet supper in the senior officers’ mess, bringing the two captains as guests. When supper was over, Alucius excused himself and retired to his quarters. There, he wrote a lengthy letter to Wendra and climbed into the overlarge bed.

  Lundi had not been a short day, and before long Alucius was asleep.

  When he woke, it was still dark. He struggled out of the bed and toward the bath chamber. But when he stepped through the doorway, he found himself in the hall with the pinkish marble walls, tinged with purple. The half pillars of goldenstone seemed larger than before, and the ceiling, if of the same pink marble, was lower. All the stonework was precise, so precise that even with Talent, he could detect neither joints nor mortar. His bare feet felt chill on the polished stone floor.

  He looked down at the octagonal sections of green marble and their inset eight-pointed stars of golden marble, but when his eyes lifted, the walls had shifted closer to him. Again, he could discover no windows, no doors, and the walls began to press in on him.

  In moments, the cold marble walls were inexorably contracting toward him, viselike, and not even his Talent could find him a way out.

  Sweat poured down his forehead. He had to get out…somehow. He had to—

  Alucius shuddered…and found himself standing beside the bed in the senior officers’ quarters. His forehead was soaked. In fact, he was damp all over.

  Why was he still having the dream? He was in Tempre, and, presumably, after his audience with the Lord-Protector, would be headed back to the Iron Valleys, either to Dekhron or to Iron Stem.

  Or was it because he feared going to Dehkron, of being hemmed in there as colonel? Or because no matter what he did, no matter how successful he was, he still seemed to have no choices, and those he did have just restricted him further?

  What could he do to change that?

  He would have to do something. He had to…Didn’t he?

  He took a slow, deep breath, and blotted his forehead with the back of his forearm, ignoring the twinges in his ribs.

  103

  On Duadi morning, Alucius stood just north of the rear portico to Southern Guard headquarters, at the front of the lancers of the three companies, waiting for Marshal Frynkel to appear. The other three officers stood in a row behind him, with Feran in the center. Captain Wasenyr and Majer Keiryn stood on the top of the steps of the portico.

  “Think we’ll have to wait long, sir?” asked Feran.

  “He’ll be on time, or close to it,” Alucius suggested.

  Almost as Alucius finished his words, the marshal appeared from the archway off the portico and moved forward to the edge of the steps. From there he surveyed the lancers formed up below.

  “Ceremonies should not be too short or too long,” Frynkel began. “If they are too short, the importance of what they reward is lost. Too long, and that importance is trivialized by boredom.” He paused. “I will try to be neither too short nor too long.”

  Alucius wondered how one judged whether something was too short or long, or did Frynkel just gauge the reaction as he proceeded?

  “It is not often that three companies are sent out to do a task that others have judged impossible. It is even less often that they succeed in accomplishing the task. It is less often than that that they do so and return. It is unheard of for three companies to do that twice, and in less than a season…”

  Frynkel went on to summarize what the three companies had done in both Hyalt and in Southgate, clearly using Alucius’s reports as the basis for his remarks. Then he added a few words about the unit commendation and about how few lancer companies received the award.

  “…These were not only notable achievements, but were achievements absolutely necessary to preserve Lanachrona as a land of freedom and prosperity, and achievements most worthy of special attention and honor.
For this reason, you all unreservedly deserve the commendation of the Lord-Protector and will be awarded that commendation. In addition, because lancers cannot live on words alone, the commendation also comes with a bonus of two weeks’ pay, which you will receive on your next payday.” Frynkel permitted himself a smile. “And in keeping with my promise to be neither too terse nor too verbose, I will close by saying that both the Lord-Protector and I appreciate your efforts. We commend you for efforts well-done and honorable, and we are greatly honored by your service, accomplishments, and dedication. Well and bravely done!”

  Frynkel inclined his head to the lancers below and to the officers. “Carry on.” He turned and reentered the headquarters building.

  Alucius turned. “Dismissed to company officers.”

  “Dismissed to squad leaders.”

  The three officers eased toward Alucius.

  “The men’ll like the bonus,” Deotyr said.

  “Half of ’em will have it spent before they get it,” Jultyr suggested.

  “Half of them?” asked Feran so sardonically that all the others laughed.

  “They’ll still have the commendation when the coins are gone,” Alucius pointed out, “but for now they can enjoy the coin.”

  “And they will.”

  “So will I,” Feran said. “We get the same bonus. I know. I asked.”

  Alucius couldn’t help smiling. “That’s all for now. I won’t know more about what we’re doing until after I meet with the Lord-Protector this afternoon. I’ll let you know tomorrow morning—if I know—before muster.”

  After Jultyr and Deotyr left, Feran waited, then asked, “Do you really think we’ll be headed back?”

  “I think it’s very likely.”

  “Why? Because they don’t like us making them look bad?”

  “Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth Companies did well, and they were little more than recruits. I don’t think the Southern Guard lancers are bad. Not so good as ours, but better than most other lands.”

  “You know what you’re saying, honored Colonel, don’t you?”

  Alucius raised his eyebrows. “That they’ve got too many political officers? Yes. Marshal Alyniat said he’d taken a great amount of criticism for promoting senior squad leaders to captain and stipending off colonels, and not promoting majers.”

  “He’s got the right idea. Whether it will last beyond him is another question.”

  Alucius nodded.

  The two turned and walked toward the barracks.

  Alucius conducted an informal inspection, something he had often done, but not recently, for obvious reasons, then spent a good glass in the stables with Feran, assessing the state of their mounts. He wanted a solid sense of what Fifth Company needed before he met with the Lord-Protector. Then he went back to his quarters to write down his observations and what he and Feran had determined was necessary for the return to Iron Stem. While he might never mention them to the Lord-Protector, he would need to request those items from someone, and while he had what he needed in mind, he began to write a draft of those needs.

  Before all that long, or so it seemed, Captain Wasenyr had appeared to escort him to the palace, and the two walked back down to the stables.

  “What happened to Captain Deen?” Alucius asked, recalling the rather charming verbose captain who had last briefed him on an audience with the Lord-Protector.

  “Deen?” Captain Wasenyr frowned, then nodded. “He’s an overcaptain now, works for Majer Ashynst. Talks to people, gathers ideas…I think that’s what he does…”

  Deen had been good at talking, but Alucius had his doubts about his listening.

  “You’ve had an audience with the Lord-Protector, Colonel, and you’re on the preferred list. You really don’t need much briefing. Captain-colonel Ratyf is still the director of appointments. You know that no weapons are allowed in the audience chamber, except for your sabre. It’s considered a ceremonial weapon. Your audience is private. Almost all with Guard officers are these days.”

  Once they reached the stables and mounted, the two officers rode around the east side of the building and through the outer gates. From there, they turned right. Their mounts carried them westward toward the river and the Grand Piers and green towers that lay beyond the Lord-Protector’s palace.

  Alucius glanced at the gardens that flanked both sides of the boulevard. Despite the winter season, the grass was green, as were the hedges, even those trimmed into the shapes of animals, but the flowers that he had seen before were absent. Guards in cream-shaded uniforms were posted at intervals along the low stone walls bordering the boulevard, and others walked along the stone paths, but Alucius had the sense that there were fewer guards than before. He also saw only a single woman with a child, and one couple. It might have been the cooler weather, but the gardens were far less attended than upon his previous visit.

  “You are familiar with the Lord-Protectors’ gardens?” inquired Captain Wasenyr.

  “I saw them on my last visit. They look as well kept as then, but fewer people are enjoying them.”

  “That might be so. These are harder times for all.”

  Ahead of them, beyond both the gardens and the palace, the green towers flanking the Grand Piers were clearly visible, spires identical to the one in Iron Stem and those in Dereka.

  Alucius took a last look at the gardens as he rode past the wall on the right side of the boulevard, a stone wall a good four yards high, which marked the beginning of the palace grounds. On the left side, the gardens—although divided by the Avenue of the Palace running northward from the high road—continued westward to the Grand Piers.

  “Here, sir.” Captain Wasenyr gestured to the first entrance.

  The palace entryway was a portico only slightly larger than that of the entry to Southern Guard headquarters. Waiting for them was a half squad of guards in dark blue uniforms trimmed with silver. There were also two stableboys standing by as the two officers reined up. At the top of the steps above the mounting blocks stood another captain. Like Captain Wasenyr, he wore blue braid across his shoulders. Alucius felt he had met the man on his last visit but did not recall his name.

  Captain Wasenyr did not dismount. “I leave you here, sir.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alucius dismounted, handing the chestnut’s reins to a stableboy.

  The graying captain stepped down to meet Alucius. “Captain Alfaryl, Colonel. Captain-colonel Ratyf asked me to escort you.”

  “Thank you.” Alucius was glad the captain had offered his name. “It’s been more than three years, but you were my escort the last time, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. I think so.”

  Alucius laughed. “You must escort hundreds of officers and others. This is but my second audience.”

  “That’s more than all but the marshals usually get, sir.”

  Not having a ready reply to that, Alucius followed Alfaryl through the double stone arches. Beyond the arches was a square vaulted entry hall that rose a good ten yards overhead and measured fifteen yards on a side. Light poured through the high clerestory windows on the south side. The polished granite floor was inlaid with long strips of blue marble, creating a blue-edged diamond pattern.

  Captain Alfaryl led Alucius through the middle of three square arches into a corridor that stretched a good forty yards. After less than twenty yards they turned left into a short corridor, at the end of which was a set of high double doors. In front of the doors stood four guards in blue and silver. Silently, the one in the center opened a door, holding it as Alucius and the captain stepped through. Just as silently, the door closed behind them.

  Beyond the door was a large chamber, with a number of settees and upholstered armchairs, and with blue-and-cream hangings. Thick carpets, in blue and cream, stretched over the granite floor. Several portraits hung on the light-wood-paneled walls. All were of men, past Lord-Protectors. The chamber was empty, except for Alucius, Captain A
lfaryl, and the captain-colonel who walked toward them.

  “Captain-colonel Ratyf,” said Alfaryl, “Majer-colonel Alucius.”

  “Ah…yes. It is good to see you again, sir. The Lord-Protector is most looking forward to seeing you. I will tell him you’re here.” The captain-colonel vanished through a small doorway, then returned nearly instantaneously. “Do enter, sir.”

  Alucius turned to Alfaryl. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  Alucius followed Ratyf’s gesture and stepped through the larger door in the rear of the waiting chamber.

  The captain-colonel held the door and announced in a deep voice, “Colonel Alucius of the Northern Guard.”

  After entering the audience hall, Alucius heard the door click shut behind him.

  Nothing had changed from the last time Alucius had been in the hall. It remained not that much larger than the corridor leading to the waiting chamber, and the goldenstone walls were draped with the same rich blue hangings, and light-torches were everywhere. The polished white marble floor was patterned with the same blue stone as in the outer entry hall, but the pattern was that of smaller oblongs.

  “Greetings, Colonel. Once more, you’ve accomplished the impossible.” The Lord-Protector stepped away from the white onyx throne, whose high stone back rose into a spire, at the tip of which was a shimmering blue crystal star.

  “We have done our best to accede to your requests, sir.” Alucius moved forward, stopping short of the dais on which the slender dark-haired man in the severe blue violet tunic stood.

  “You have apparently rendered me yet another service that I cannot fully repay on a request of you that I cannot acknowledge in full—not publicly.”

  “Neither of us had a choice, sir. Not really.”

  The Lord-Protector Talryn smiled, spoke, his words carrying a trace of a laugh. “That is one of the ironies of power and position. The greater each of these is, the fewer real and wise choices there are, and yet there is the illusion that those who have power and position have an immense range of choice.”