Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I suppose it cannot hurt to tell what I know,” admitted the Regent. “There were a few notes that I found. She was not from Madrien. She was born in Aelta.”

  “She was Deforyan?”

  “She was a pleasure girl in the palace of the Landarch, if what she wrote was correct, and then she cut her hair and became a lancer in the time of troubles with the nomads—the old troubles, four centuries ago. She was proficient enough with rifle and blade to survive. Then…according to the notes, she discovered her destiny and brought it with her as she made her way westward…”

  “Discovered her destiny,” mused the marshal, “and brought it with her. Almost as if it were something she held in her hands.”

  “I’m sure that she thought of it in that fashion,” replied the Regent. “At times, destiny can indeed have a tangible form.”

  “A tangible destiny? And is that destiny now yours, Regent? Will you soon be the next Matrial?”

  “There has been but one Matrial, and that is all that there ever will be.” The pale-faced, violet-eyed, and dark-haired Regent smiled enigmatically. “We shall leave it at that, and you will offer great encouragement to the engineers—if they wish to remain engineers.”

  “Yes, Regent.” Aluyn offered a discreet head bow. “I will do so.”

  “You may go.”

  Only when the marshal had departed both the study and the Regent’s private quarters did the Regent stand. She left the study, then crossed the main sitting room and stepped through the arches and out into the enclosed garden.

  The Regent glanced at the row of daisies, green and seasons from flowering, before turning to light upon the miniature redflower tree in the northwest corner. Her violet eyes darkened.

  Abruptly, the small red flowers browned, then dropped onto the dark soil of the narrow flower bed. In turn, pointed olive green leaves darkened, blackened, and fell. The smooth brown trunk blackened in turn, and, but for an instant, blue flames played over the blackened remnant of the ancient miniature tree. Within moments, all that remained was a circle of black on the soil.

  The Regent smiled coldly, then turned and left the enclosed garden.

  112

  Wendra had persuaded Alucius that she could stay a few days, and that she could certainly look over the ledgers to give him a hand while she was there. He had not protested excessively strongly about either proposition, and he had enjoyed Octdi greatly, taking more time off from his work than he should have.

  On Novdi, when he came upstairs for a quick midday meal, he saw that Wendra had laid out three ledgers across the single couch, open at different points. She sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs, burping Alendra.

  “Alucius…there are things really wrong with these ledgers…” Wendra looked up, a smudge of dirt or ink over her left eye. She rose, holding out Alendra. “I need to show you.”

  Alucius took his daughter, still amazed at her, for so many reasons. Already, Alendra’s lifethread was close to half green, a promise of strong Talent, yet she was still so small, or so it seemed to him, no matter how often Wendra told him that she was good-sized for a child less than two seasons old. And her eyes—a deep green with flecks of gray. Over the years, Alucius had not seen many infants, but never had he seen one so young with eyes of such strong and striking color.

  Wendra picked up the first ledger and carried it to where Alucius could see without setting down Alendra. “This is the one for outpost supplies. That’s what it seems to be. Look at these lines here.”

  Alucius looked, taking in the words: Cooperage, fifty full barrels [slack/oak].

  “The barrels…that was what caught my eye. Father never charges more than a silver a barrel for slack cooperage—that’s for oak. The Guard is paying two silvers to Halanat and Sons, but they’re buying from Father at less than half that.”

  “A tidy profit—more than five golds for just that one lot of fifty barrels.”

  “It’s worse than that,” she said. “Father has asked to bid on barrels. He’s always been told that his bids were too high.”

  “But he sold them to Halanat for what, less than five golds, and Halanat resold them for ten?” Alucius shifted Alendra higher on his shoulder.

  “The ledgers don’t say what price Halanat got. Between Weslyn and Halanat they skimmed off more than five.”

  “How many times has this happened?”

  “There are five times that I’ve found in this ledger. I don’t know that I’ve discovered them all. Or even most of them. There are also some purchases of buckets and some flour that look like the same thing. I can only trace the things where I know the costs.”

  “Still…just on the five-barrel lots, that’s more than a half year’s pay for a colonel.”

  Wendra grinned. “Do you get that? We could buy another ram and get a better outbreeding.”

  “You don’t get the bonus on my pay anymore.” Alucius wasn’t sure about that, but he doubted that the Lord-Protector would pay it once he was back in Dekhron, even if it happened to be looking almost as dangerous as battle duty. He frowned. That was overstating matters.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking that…well…no one’s going to like what I’m finding. Even after the golds Weslyn was hiding.”

  Wendra set down the first ledger and brought a second one over. “All this feed. It comes from a grower named Aluard in Fiente. The amounts are twice what we pay for it for the town sheep, and we’re paying for almost a hundred vingts of cartage when we buy it in Iron Stem. The Guard can’t be paying but half that, not if it’s coming from Fiente to Dekhron. And there’s a lot more feed sold to the Guard than barrels.”

  Aluard—that was the name of Yusalt’s brother. Were there two Aluards who were growers in Fiente? Somehow Alucius doubted it.

  “Weslyn had more than a few ties to Fiente. I’d wager that any oil the Guard bought was purchased on the same basis.”

  “What will you do?”

  “For now, I’ll have to meet with the factors and traders and tell them about what Weslyn did and suggest that it appears as if he pocketed a great deal. I’ll probably have to let it go at that—unless I find evidence otherwise from here on in.”

  “Oh…” Wendra set down the ledger. “You need to eat, and I haven’t done much.”

  “There’s bread and cheese, I think, and a few other things.”

  “That’s not enough—”

  “It will do. It’s what I was eating before you came. Besides, what you found already is more important than food.” Alucius smiled. “So is your being here.”

  “I’m glad to be here.”

  Alucius turned sideways, then leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his lips. “You don’t know how glad I am.”

  She grinned wickedly. “You showed me last night.”

  Alucius couldn’t help flushing.

  “Grandpa Kustyl came by a while ago.” Wendra’s voice sobered, a serious tone.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I don’t feel right leaving you, but I don’t feel right leaving everything on the stead to your grandsire. He gets tired, really tired, if he has to take the flock out more than two days in a row.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “You’ve had enough to worry about.”

  That was true enough, and now she had told him.

  “We need to get you something to eat.” Wendra turned. “I can do it if you’ll keep holding Alendra.”

  Alucius readjusted his daughter against his shoulder. Alendra squirmed, as if protesting the change in position, as Alucius followed his wife toward the kitchen.

  Still…he was back down in his study in less than half a glass, and Wendra had promised to write down, as she could, all the instances of obvious overpayments. He’d redrafted his request to meet with the Traders’ Council on the following Sexdi to discuss matters of mutual interest and concern. After he signed and sealed it, he had Fewal take it to Halanat�
�s factorage, since he had no idea where else to send it.

  The lancer returned within half a glass to say that the factor Halsant had accepted the letter with little more than a nod.

  Kustyl arrived less than a glass into the afternoon, while Alucius was drafting letters requesting the resignations of various officers, mostly captains placed by Weslyn. Interestingly enough, Alucius had already received a letter of resignation from Yusalt. That indicated that either someone had passed the word to the captain or Yusalt had not been quite so clueless as he had first appeared. It also suggested he was far from guiltless.

  Kustyl walked into the study, closing the door behind him. This time he did settle into the chair across the desk from Alucius. He smiled. “You got ’em worried. That’s for sure.”

  “Who? The factors?”

  “Mostly the folks with golds. Even Renzor’s heard, and he’s just a coppersmith. They’re talking about your facing down Weslyn. Some of ’em claim you’re part sander, with skin like theirs. Say that nothing else could have survived the shots you took. A couple say that Weslyn was a crack shot. Maybe three years back, he shot a cutpurse running away from thirty yards in the dark. ’Course, no one knew the cutpurse, and only Weslyn said he was a thief.”

  “Anyone know any more about that?”

  “There was some captain who claimed the fellow had been a lancer working in headquarters who deserted, but nothing came of it.”

  Alucius nodded. Like so much he’d found, it was suggestive, but hardly proof of anything. “What else?”

  “It’s what’s not happening. No prices are changing. No one’s stocking up on things, and folks don’t think you’ll be colonel that long. Figure someone’ll shoot you, or that you’ll go back to being a herder, or the Lord-Protector will order you back into fighting the Matrites.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Nope. Not all that bad, either.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “If they were all into this, you’d see more happening, one way or another. People leaving town. Goods being sold.”

  “That…or they’re all in it.”

  Kustyl shook his head. “Too many loose lips in Dekhron. Way I figure it, it has to be Tarolt and Halanat, and everyone else is trying to stay out of their path.”

  “What sort of goods do Halanat and Halsant handle?” asked Alucius.

  “Pretty much everything except nightsilk. Heard they’ve been shipping more wine from the south out east, and sulfur to Deforya lately,” Kustyl said.

  “The sulfur sounds like trouble.”

  “Your grandsire said you didn’t much care for the Landarch.”

  “He wasn’t as bad as the nobles around him. They’re in charge now. Before long, the Praetor of Lustrea will be trying to take over Deforya. The Lord-Protector would like to, but he doesn’t have the lancers to do it.”

  “You’re getting less cheerful these days.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Kustyl laughed. “Never have been. Mairee had to be twice as cheerful.”

  “I need someone here local to look over the ledgers. Someone who’s honest and won’t take advantage of the information, but I’d like them to be someone whose word most factors would trust.”

  “Don’t want much, do you?”

  “I never do,” replied Alucius dryly.

  Kustyl laughed again. “I’d say you ought to try Agherat. He’s the most honest of Dekhron’s usurers.”

  “A usurer?”

  “Who else knows ledgers and coins? You don’t need a usurer. Guard doesn’t borrow. Means he doesn’t gain much by it. He’s a cousin of Mairee’s—she’s got lots of cousins. I can ask him after I leave here.”

  “If you would.”

  “I can do that.” Kustyl stood. “That’s what I’ve got. Talked to your Wendra. She tell you?”

  “You plan to ride back tomorrow morning.” Alucius rose from behind the desk.

  “Quite a woman, that granddaughter of mine.”

  “More than anyone knew,” Alucius said.

  “Except you. You saw that right off, didn’t you?”

  “I’d like to think I did. I knew she was special. I didn’t know why.”

  Kustyl nodded. “Glad to see she’s on the stead. Best herder in the whole family, and she had to get a stead from your family. Glad it was your grandsire’s. Almost family, anyway.”

  “I’m glad it worked out.”

  “You and all of the north valleys. See you in the morning.” Kustyl opened the door and slipped out.

  Alucius looked down at the unfinished letter on the desk. Sometimes, the writing that followed the decisions seemed as bad as the decisions themselves.

  113

  In the grayness before dawn on Decdi, Alucius opened the door to his quarters. He carried Wendra’s saddlebags, stuffed full, mainly with clothing for Alendra, but also with his old nightsilk undergarments. He hadn’t realized how fast infants went through clothing in cold weather, at least, if parents wanted them to remain relatively dry and odor free.

  Wendra followed him, with Alendra in the carrypack across her chest, a pack designed to keep the infant snug, warm, and slightly to the left, positioned so that, if necessary, Wendra could use her rifles. Their breath trailed them like white fog as they made their way down the steps to where Kustyl and Wendra’s mount waited. Alucius had saddled her chestnut earlier. The chill was more of midwinter than late winter, and more what Alucius would have expected on the stead, rather than in Dekhron.

  At the bottom of the steps, Alucius gave Wendra a last, one-armed embrace and kissed her cheek, then bent and kissed his daughter’s forehead. “I wish you could stay. Or that I could have put my other plans into effect.” Alucius had already told Wendra that he had asked for permission to move the Northern Guard to Iron Stem, and that the Lord-Protector was considering it. Wendra had understood that he was reluctant to say more until he had a firm commitment.

  “I wish I could stay, too. You know it’s not for the best.”

  Alucius did. In many ways, Dekhron was looking to be less safe than the stead, and there was also the problem of Royalt. According to Wendra, Alucius’s grandsire was beginning to show his age, and if he were left too long to handle the stead without Wendra—or Alucius—the strain would be too great, and in the end, both Alucius and Wendra would suffer more. Given all he owed to his grandsire, Alucius did not want to place too heavy a burden on Royalt. “Just be careful on the way back, and on the stead.”

  “I will. I always am.” Wendra smiled warmly at him.

  For a long moment, their eyes and lifethreads intertwined.

  Then Wendra turned, and even with the carrypack, mounted easily. After she mounted, Alucius checked the rifles at her knee, making sure—once more—that the actions were clean and that the magazines were full.

  He stepped back. “Just be careful,” he said again.

  “We’ll be fine.” Wendra looked down at him. “You’re the one who needs to be careful.”

  Kustyl cleared his throat.

  Alucius looked at the older herder.

  “Agherat said he’d be glad to help,” Kustyl said from the saddle of his roan. “No charge. That’s something from a usurer, but he didn’t care much for Weslyn. He’s across and up from the chandlery nearest the bridge. Sign with two coins.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Glad to ask for you.” The older herder glanced to the north. “Cold but clear on the way back. Wendra’ll take care of us both. Better shot than anyone except maybe you, Alucius.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t have to shoot anyone.”

  “Being prepared to shoot’s better than hoping you don’t have to,” Kustyl replied wryly, easing his mount around to face the gates.

  Alucius walked beside Wendra’s mount until they reached the gates and the sentries, where he stopped, watching as they turned northward. Then he started back toward his quarters.

  Behind him he heard the sentries.

/>   “…Colonel’s wife…pretty woman…”

  “…herder like him…she can run a stead alone…rifles there aren’t for show…”

  “…heard tell she was as good a shot as him…”

  “…tough folk up north…”

  “…could use more of ’em, especially now.”

  He could use more of just about everything, Alucius reflected, except crooked factors and ifrits—and inept captains. He made his way back to his study.

  Once in the study, cold because the coal stove in the main part of the headquarters building had not been fired up for the day—and would not be until he did, since Decdi was end day, when lancers had a day off, except in the field—he sat down behind the desk, thinking over what lay ahead.

  He’d promoted several senior squad leaders, and now Egyl was the captain in command of Seventh Company. Feran had taken Egyl and Seventh Company, as well as the two Southern Guard companies, to Sudon, with another promotion order for Estepp to captain and the order dismissing Captain Dezyn. Seventh Company would stay there for some intensive training. Fifth Company, with Faisyn as senior squad leader, had remained at Dekhron to support Alucius.

  Alucius still hadn’t received any word from Majer Lujat on the situation in northern Madrien, and only about half the northern and western outposts had reported back. So far, thankfully, the reports had been positive and seemingly appreciative of the change in command. That would not last, not if the Northern Guard had to deal with an attack by the Matrites, not when supplies and effective officers were both low.

  He took a deep breath and looked at the stacks of paper and charts before him. He could only hope that Sanasus was almost finished setting up the new ledgers and revamping the accounts and disbursing systems.

  114

  Lundi and Duadi passed without incident—and without dispatches from anywhere. Alucius and Sanasus checked the inventories of everything against the ledgers, then began to go over the ledgers line by line, sorting out what they calculated had been paid to various crafters, growers, and factors, and what had been recorded as being paid. They’d gone back only two seasons, and the discrepancy was far larger than Alucius had originally thought—more than a hundred golds in four months. At that rate, Alucius calculated a difference of two hundred fifty golds a year. If Weslyn had been diverting that much, where were the other five hundred or so golds that had been “overcharged” in the past four years? Had they gone to Halanat?