Darknesses

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Draspyr? Was he the one who disobeyed Submarshal Frynkel and broke the mercs at Southgate?”

  “I’d never met the majer before, and he didn’t talk about what he’d done before.” Alucius tried to recall Draspyr’s appearance. “Fairly tall, blond, scar across one cheek.”

  “That’s Draspyr. Or was. He didn’t make it, did he?”

  “We lost more than half the troopers, half the officers. He was one of those they got. We came back with less than two companies out of five.” Alucius took a swallow of ale.

  “And you were the senior officer left?”

  Alucius nodded again.

  Paerkl shook his head. “Pteridons, you said? You have any idea where they got those?”

  “If anyone knew, they never told me. The Deforyans didn’t believe that the nomads had them—not until they flamed a couple of squads.”

  “That must have been something.”

  “Not something I’d like to do again.” Alucius paused, then said, “We rode here from Dekhron, through Borlan and Krost. Seemed like all the posts were understrength. Is that because of the Southgate campaign?”

  “Mostly. It’s over three hundred vingts from our old border with Madrien to Southgate. Built up the fort at Zalt, but to hold the high road takes fifteen companies. Minimum. Doesn’t count the push they’re making toward Fola.” Paerkl frowned, momentarily. “You stopped at Krost, at the post there?”

  “We did.”

  “Was Captain-Colonel Jesopyr there?”

  “He was. He’s the post commander, is he not?”

  “For the moment. He’s got enough time for a stipend. Imagine he’ll be honored at the arms-commander’s next awards dinner in Tempre. Good man. Liked serving with him. Old style. Appreciates a talented enemy more than an inept friend. He’s also not one who tells you what you want to hear, then slips a knife into your gut while hugging you.”

  “There are always those kinds. We had some in the militia before we became the Northern Guard. More worried about a half-silver than a trooper’s life.”

  Paerkl shook his head, then took a last sip from his beaker of ale. “The fewer the better.”

  “Did you ever run across a Majer Ebuin?”

  Paerkl’s slight stiffening told Alucius more than the overcaptain’s words. “He’s the number two at Borlan. Under Captain-Colonel Yermyn. They think alike, I’m told. Don’t know either personally.”

  “Even after he said something,” Alucius offered, “I couldn’t be sure what he meant. But he was most courteous.”

  “Courteous. Good word.” Paerkl eased back his chair. “Glad to see you, and hope everything goes well. Lord-Protector ought to give you some sort of reward. Good to see that a fighting officer gets recognized. Doesn’t happen enough.” Then, with a smile, Overcaptain Paerkl was gone.

  No one joined Alucius as he finished his breakfast. Nor did anyone approach him as he walked back up to his quarters. He debated going exploring, but he had no idea where to look for what—or even what he might need to find. He also suspected that, before long, someone would be looking for him.

  About that, he was right. A young captain Alucius did not recognize was pacing back and forth in the corridor outside Alucius’s quarters.

  “Overcaptain Alucius?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Captain Deen. Majer Keiryn detailed me to be your aide while you’re here in Tempre.” The captain offered an embarrassed smile, and the expression matched his inner chagrin. “But I didn’t get the orders until this morning.”

  “It’s not a problem. I was hungry and went and found the officers’ mess.”

  “Ah…which one?”

  “The one on the first level. I followed some captains.”

  “Ah…we’ll need to show you the one for senior officers. That’s where they expect you. It’s on the other side of the first level. When you weren’t here…I checked with them, but they hadn’t seen you.”

  “I had a solid breakfast,” Alucius said.

  “That’s good. You’ll likely have a busy few days here in Tempre.”

  Alucius raised his eyebrows.

  “Captain-Colonel Omaryk—he’s the head of the planning staff—he has requested that you brief him on the nomads, and on the abilities of the Landarch’s forces, as well as on the high road through the Upper Spine Mountains. Then, Captain-Colonel Dytryl—he’s mapping—has you scheduled for two glasses this afternoon. And, of course, you’re the guest at the senior officers’ dinner at midday…”

  “My orders mentioned the Lord-Protector…” Alucius ventured.

  “Oh, yes. That’s on Londi. He doesn’t have audiences on the end days, and he couldn’t possibly meet with you until you’ve briefed everyone, and on Decdi the arms-commander is having you to his residence. Submarshal Frynkel wanted to meet you privately, and having you two to supper was the easiest way to handle that over the end days. He said that you had valuable knowledge about the southwest highway and the Matrites…”

  One thing that the Lord-Protector was getting was information. But was that all?

  Alucius would just have to see.

  95

  Prosp, Lustrea

  The man in the uniform of a Praetorian engineer worked quickly on the device laid out on the makeshift workbench. He stood in the harvest warmth of the workroom outside the chamber that held the first newly built Table of the Recorders in more than a millennium.

  The device resembled an antique gunpowder pistol in general shape, but the design was far more ancient, with the barrel a crystal discharge formulator, and the butt holding the crystal light-charges. The engineer’s fingers moved deftly, and he silently finished his work, screwing the plates that doubled as handgrips and light collectors into place. Then he straightened and slipped the weapon into the holster on his left side.

  He walked toward the archway into the chamber that held the Table, nodding at the Praetorian Guard who stood at the outer doorway.

  As Vestor shut the door to the Table chamber, the sound of masons and carpenters working on finishing the rooms in the outer circle died away. He walked to the single table desk set against the wall and lifted several sheets of parchment from it. Then he turned. His eyes ranged over the the waist-high black lorken cube as he stepped from the desk and up to the Table. There he looked down at the mirror surface and concentrated.

  The ruby mists swirled, then dropped away, revealing the face of an alabaster-skinned and violet-eyed man, who smiled.

  Vestor nodded, then set the first sheet of parchment on the surface of the table. It vanished. He repeated the process with the second and third sheets. After the third sheet vanished, he stepped back and took a deep breath, then blotted his sweating forehead. His entire body shivered, and his chest was heaving as though he had run a vingt at full speed. A moment passed, and he walked slowly to the stool beside the table desk, where he seated himself.

  All the images that had appeared in the Table had also vanished, leaving a clear mirror that reflected the heavy beams overhead.

  96

  Alucius walked quickly toward his quarters, half-listening to Captain Deen.

  “…and when the logistics staff was reorganized—that was because Majer-colonel Hurgenyr took his stipend right before the Lord-Protector’s father died—his successor there thought I might be of more use on the mapping staff. But Captain-Colonel Dytryl doesn’t want any junior officers on the staff, just cartographers and older junior officers who came up through the ranks and who have been stationed all over Lanachrona…Luckily, Marshal Wyerl thought I’d be useful to Majer Keiryn…”

  “I’m sure you’re quite valuable in making sure that officers like me and others get where they’re supposed to be—”

  “That’s what Keiryn said just the other day, even gave thanks to the One Who Is, but you know that it’s really a privilege to be on staff here at headquarters. My father’s pleased. You know he was a majer-colonel in charge of river logistics, and my cousin, well, re
ally, my father’s cousin’s daughter, she’s the Lord-Protector’s wife and consort. We all keep hoping it won’t be too long before she has a son. Anyway, the majer even said it would be a shame to send me out to a company…”

  Alucius opened the door and stepped into the foyer of his quarters. “If you’d just wait here in the foyer. I’ll only be a moment. I need to gather some notes.” Escaping to the bedchamber, Alucius closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. Then he checked his saddlebags for the few notes on his travels that had survived and might be of interest and use when he was briefed—or debriefed by Captain-Colonel Omaryk.

  As he straightened up, he glanced out the twin bedchamber windows, catching sight of the Lord-Protector’s palace.

  He paused, sensing something he had not sensed in a while, and really looked at the palace. The feel of the purple-tinged blackness flowing upward from somewhere in the Lord-Protector’s palace was so clear that he wondered why he hadn’t felt it before. Because he hadn’t been looking? Because he’d been preoccupied and hurried from place to place?

  He took a long look, concentrating. The blackness had the same evil overtones as had the pinkish purpleness that had come from the crystal in the Matrial’s residence. Was that why he had been warned in Dereka? Was the Lord-Protector like the Matrial?

  Even as Alucius watched, the blackness faded. So, he reflected, whatever caused that sense of evil was not continuous the way the purple crystal had been. But that made it even harder to determine what to do. He couldn’t very well watch the palace every moment, especially not when he was meeting with so many officers, then gallop over there, even with his concealment abilities, and try to find who or what was creating the purplish black.

  With a deep breath, he slipped the few sheets he had inside his tunic and turned to rejoin Captain Deen.

  The captain was waiting, smiling, in the foyer. “That didn’t take long, Overcaptain. Now, we’re headed down to the planning staff. That’s Captain-Colonel Omaryk…was one of the first appointments that the new Lord-Protector made, that is after Marshal Slayern’s unfortunate death and after stipending off Marshal Retyln, when he chose Marshal Wyerl as arms-commander…then brought Omaryk from Borlan…”

  Alucius tried to listen intently as he accompanied the young captain down to the second level and eastward along the main corridor.

  Within moments, Alucius was stepping into a small conference room.

  Captain-Colonel Omaryk was rail-thin, with freckles, and a long face. He nodded to the empty chair across from him. “Please have a seat, Overcaptain. This is Majer Kurelyn. He heads one of the analytical sections. He also writes well and quickly.” A faint smile crossed Omaryk’s face.

  Alucius seated himself and waited.

  “Let’s dispense with unnecessary formalities. As I understand your background, you have traveled the midroad from Soulend through the Westerhills, and the innercoast road all the way south to Zalt. You are also familiar with the southwest high road from the former Lanachronan border to Zalt. Your latest duties carried you from Senelmyr to Dereka, then south to the end of the Barrier Range, and then back to Salaan and thence to here. You are well familiarized with Matrite training and tactics, and you are possibly more familiar with the tactics and capabilities of both the Illegean nomads and the Deforyan Lancers than any other officer in Lanachrona. Are those reasonably correct suppositions?”

  “With some qualifications, sir.”

  “What are those qualifications?”

  “There may have been other officers who have been to Dereka, sir. I’m not familiar with them, but I just don’t know.”

  “What about the Matrites?”

  “I’m more familiar with their tactics and training than anyone in the Northern Guard. I don’t know about the Southern Guard.”

  “That’s better…” Omaryk paused. “Were you ever debriefed on the Matrites by your superiors in the Northern Guard?”

  “Only by Colonel Clyon. I don’t know what he did with the information.”

  “Neither do we. Let’s begin with the Deforyan Lancers. First, I’d like your overall impressions of the Lancers and your understanding of their command structure.”

  “According to what I was told by various officers, the Deforyan Lancers consisted of twenty-five companies…” Alucius went on to report everything that he had learned or overheard, but not necessarily all that he had surmised.

  “You’re suggesting that the Deforyan Lancers are overofficered, and that the abilities of those officers are marginal at best.”

  “Yes, sir. That might be charitable.”

  “Do you have any examples of why you think this is so?”

  “When we were at Black Ridge…” Alucius explained the retreat of the Deforyans and their abandonment of the cooks.

  “You don’t think that was a wise decision?”

  “No, sir. We would have had to retreat in time, but we had a superior physical position, from which we could inflict greater casualties. Had the Deforyans done what they had stated, they could have inflicted even heavier losses on the nomads when they tried to reach the main road. The Lancers made no effort, but hurried back to Deforya. Then they let themselves be encircled in the main battle.”

  “You were not encircled?”

  “No, sir. Their attack was massive, but not tight. I ordered my troopers into a tight wedge, and we fought through their forces, then regrouped and cut hundreds of them down from behind. They also disregarded even the reports from their own officers about the pteridons.”

  “And what happened?”

  “The nomads encircled them, and then the pteridons flamed the center of the Deforyans, and cut down the outside until we could bring down the pteridons and break through the encirclement.” That was generally true, if simplistic, Alucius felt.

  “You’ve simplified that some, I believe, Overcaptain.” The faint smile crossed Omaryk’s face. “Since you’re not the question, however, we’ll go on. What orders did you or the Deforyan companies receive prior to the attack outside Dereka?”

  “We were lined up on the ring road, but there were never any direct orders given once the attack began. So I took the initiative.”

  “None?”

  “No, sir.”

  From there the questions became more and more detailed, dealing with everything from Deforyan marksmanship to the numbers of captains and overcaptains, and their backgrounds, even with the officers’ café and the roads and aqueducts serving Dereka, and the placement of orchards and fountains along the high road.

  97

  Alucius did not sleep well either Octdi or Novdi night. His dreams—those that he remembered—combined alabaster-skinned figures with pteridons and wild sandoxes as he scrambled through endless tunnels trying to discover…something. That, he reflected, was his problem. Everyone around him seemed to have something they wanted from him. Some, like Captain-Colonel Omaryk, had been very clear on what they wanted. Others, like Majer Ebuin, had been far less obvious.

  On Decdi, the headquarters was largely empty, as Alucius would have expected on end day, but he spent the morning, after eating, checking on third squad, then returned to his quarters to try to consider what might lie before him.

  Except for the one time, he had not sensed the purpleness coming from the Lord-Protector’s palace—or anywhere else; nor had he received any messages, veiled or otherwise, since the one delivered by the marshals on his arrival. He had not seen anyone with a pale white face or alabaster skin. Nor had he seen or sensed any soarers, sanders, or Talent-creatures.

  The only message he had been given was that, unless he did what the Lord-Protector wanted, his way of life, his family, his stead, could all be wiped out. But he still had no idea what the Lord-Protector wanted—except that the Lord-Protector definitely wanted Alucius to be aware of that fact.

  Finally, on Decdi afternoon, Captain Deen appeared to escort Alucius out to the personal dwelling of Arms-Commander Wyerl. The afternoon was cooler than t
hose of the previous days, and while they rode past some other riders and several carriages, the streets and roads of Tempre were less than crowded, far less than on the Septi when Alucius had ridden into the capital city.

  “…beautiful afternoon…harvesttime is especially beautiful in Tempre. It’s too bad you haven’t had a chance to see the river…”

  “Does your family live near here?” Alucius interrupted Captain Deen’s monologue.

  “No, they live on the west side, out beyond the market section. You have to have coins to live here in the Golden Hills. That’s why they call it the Golden Hills, you know. You have to have golds to live in these hills. Or be a marshal. One of my cousins lives just north of here. He calls where he lives part of the silver slopes because it’s just downhill of the gold. He might make enough golds someday. He’s already got fifteen wagons running the roads, most of them on the square, but a couple on the Southgate run—”

  “On the square?”

  “Oh, the high roads make close to a square between Tempre, Krost, Syan, and Hyalt—Vyan’s in there, too, but it’s really part of the Krost to Syan leg, and by running a regular schedule, he gets more goods from the traders. He’s done well, and he’s only a few years older than I am. Asked me if I wanted to head up the wagon guards, train them, that sort of thing. That’s not what I’m good at, but I had to think. He offered more than a few golds…”

  Alucius kept listening as they crossed the ridge and rode along the stone-paved way over two more low hills. Marshal Wyerl’s residence was a long and low structure set amid gardens, with a low stone wall a yard and a half high surrounding it. Two Southern Guards stood as Alucius and Deen rode through the opening in the wall and along the circular lane to the main entry.

  “The marshal said he’d send an escort back with you, sir. I’ll see you in the morning. Remember, you’re to meet the Lord-Protector a glass before noon.”

  “I’ll be ready. Until then.” Alucius reined up and dismounted.