The sentry looked up at the overcaptain.
Alucius tried to hang on, but, once more, blackness swept over him.
120
For glasses—or days—Alucius could not tell which—he wandered through a darkness of pain. He thought he had been fed and talked to people, but he could not recall what he had eaten or to whom he had talked.
Then, almost suddenly, he found himself aware of lying in a bed.
A senior squad leader looked down at Alucius. “How do you feel, sir?”
Alucius looked up. “Like my left side’s on fire.” He should have recognized the squad leader, but his eyes blurred, and his head throbbed.
“We found the brigands—Dekhron bravos—and your mount, Overcaptain.” There was a pause. “Was there anyone with you, sir?”
“No…was heading home.”
“You’ll be here for a bit.”
“How…my leg?”
“You’ve been here almost three days. You were hit in the thigh, twice, and in the ribs. The nightsilk stopped the bullets, but the healer says that you’ve got a cracked rib, maybe two, and there’s not a place below your shoulder on the left that’s without bruising.”
Alucius finally recognized the squad leader, the man who had trained him years before. “You’re still here, Estepp?”
“I went out for a tour, and they sent me back here. Got here a month ago.” The older man laughed. “It had to be you, Overcaptain. You know that you killed twenty-one of them? One of ’em, we can’t figure out. Not a mark on him. Could be you scared him to death.”
“I don’t know.” Alucius didn’t try to shake his head. He knew any movement would hurt.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I did tell some of the trainees about you. Too good a story to waste. Officer’s been released, but he can’t let go of duty and takes on more than twenty bravos to keep some innocent from being killed. We had to report it to headquarters. Got a message back this afternoon from the commandant. They added the Commandant’s Star to your other awards, sir.”
“I’m so pleased,” Alucius said dryly. “I just wanted to get home.”
Estepp smiled. “For a man who never wanted to be a trooper, sir, you’ve done more than any officer in generations.”
“Maybe…because I didn’t want to…”
“You may not want to be one, sir, but you’re a trooper officer at heart, just like your grandsire.” Estepp paused. “Need to check on the trainees, sir.”
“Go ahead. I need the rest.”
Estepp eased back, and the door closed.
As Alucius lay there in the darkness in what he realized were senior officers’ quarters, thoughts circled through his mind.
The would-be assassins still bothered him. He’d seen deeply enough into the Lord-Protector, and the man would not have acted so. Nor was it likely that Waleryn could have organized such an attack and gotten word to Dekhron quickly enough.
The colonel? Weslyn was a possibility…but the man didn’t operate that way. He might order—and had ordered—Alucius into situations where he might be killed, but Weslyn lacked the courage to act directly.
But someone had. Alucius just didn’t know who it could be—or why.
He could feel his eyelids closing.
121
A week later, in late afternoon, Alucius rode through the square in Iron Stem at the head of a column of replacement troopers, roughly a squad’s worth, headed northward to Soulend. He rode upon the best mount gleaned from those of the bravos captured by the Northern Guard, a gray stallion, not quite so spirited as Wildebeast, but solid. Alucius did not stop at the cooperage, since his Talent told him that Wendra was not there. He had not expected she would be at her father’s, but he had checked as he neared the square.
Both Estepp and Overcaptain Culyn—the head of the training post at Sudon—had insisted that he accompany the detachment. Since his left side was yellow and purple and sore all over, Alucius did not stand on pride but accepted the offer. Parts of Alucius’s left thigh and chest remained numb. He could barely move his left arm, and his fingers tingled on occasion. His Talent told him that it would be some time before the injuries healed completely.
“Your place is north of town, sir?” asked Zearyt, the squad leader who would be taking over the fourth squad of Twelfth Company.
“Almost ten vingts north,” Alucius confirmed. “You don’t need to escort me—”
“Sir…if I didn’t see you to your door, both Estepp and Overcaptain Culyn would have my head, and there wouldn’t be enough left of me for a banner to fly against the Matrites.” Zearyt grinned, an expression between rue and pleasure at being able to insist. “Besides…most of us would like to see your stead, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s really not mine, yet. My grandsire and mother are still there. And my wife.”
“She a herder, too?”
Alucius knew what Zearyt meant. “Yes. She takes the flock often.”
The squad leader shook his head. “Only seen nightsheep up close a few times. Wouldn’t want to get that close. True that they can gut a sandwolf?”
“One-on-one, a nightram can. But the sandwolves try for ewes or lambs that are stragglers.”
As he rode past the green tower just north of the pleasure palace, Alucius was reminded of the towers in Dereka and Tempre—and of the alabaster-skinned ifrits. He shifted his weight in the saddle, hoping he had seen the last of them—either with his eyes or his Talent. He couldn’t say he’d been pleased with what he’d learned, but some of the hints had always been there—like the leschec board and game pieces—green and black, the twinned colors of life. And that the pteridons had left no remains when they burned—that had been another hint. Yet who could have guessed what they had really meant?
The other thing that both bothered and pleased him was that, after the last attack, he had not sensed the green radiance of soarers. Had the soarers done all they could? Had they abandoned him? Or were they merely seeing if he could survive without their aid? He had done that, but it had been a close thing—closer than Alucius would have liked.
Alucius smiled faintly, to himself, then frowned as the voices rose behind him as they neared the dustcat works. All through the trip, there had been murmurs from the raw troopers in the column, but, for the most part, Alucius had ignored them. Sometimes, it was hard.
“Still…looks so young for an overcaptain…”
“…hear what he’s been through…rather be a ranker…”
“…where he started…years back…”
“Estepp said he’d been left for dead something like four times…Star of Gallantry from Deforya, Star of Honor from the Lord-Protector, and Commandant’s Star…”
“…don’t give those unless you die…or come so close you might as well have…”
Unhappily, Alucius reflected, the young ranker was right. Alucius had come close enough to dying even more times than anyone knew—or would—except for his family.
“…killed twenty brigands by himself…still hard to believe…”
“…twenty-one…was on the detail that brought in the bodies…killed his mount…”
At the thought of Wildebeast, Alucius winced. The stallion had deserved better, but Alucius wasn’t certain what else he could have done—not after he’d made the initial stupid decision to take on the bravos.
Yet…had it been stupid? Or had his tactics just been stupid, relying once more on what amounted to brute force? The soarer had tried to teach him, but he still hadn’t learned to apply the lesson on a wider scale.
The sun was low in the west when they neared the turnoff to the stead, and Alucius was all too aware of the aches in his ribs and leg.
“The lane on the right, half vingt ahead,” he said quietly.
“You’re far out here, sir. Nothing much in sight,” observed Zearyt.
“That’s the way with most steads,” replied Alucius.
When they neared the stead, Alucius could see two figures, waiting on
the porch—his mother and Wendra. That Royalt was not there indicated that he was still out with the nightsheep.
As he neared the dwelling, Alucius reached out to Wendra with his Talent, then paused. She was no longer black, shot with green, but her lifethread and being was green, with but a handful of black threads. Alucius smiled.
Her smile was like brilliant sun after a cold winter.
Followed by the troopers, Alucius rode to the porch, where he dismounted stiffly, then turned. “I thank you all.”
Wendra stepped down from the porch and put her hand over his. Even without turning, Alucius could feel the meldinglike feel as their lifethreads brushed.
“We thank you, as well,” Wendra said from where she stood a step above Alucius, offering a warm smile.
“We thought he deserved an escort, madame.” Zearyt bowed in the saddle. “Not that often that the Iron Valleys have an officer wins the stars of three lands.” He turned to Alucius. “A pleasure, sir, and we’ll be departing.”
“You can’t stay here this evening?” asked Wendra.
“That we’d wish, but orders are orders, and we need to make the way station tonight.”
Wendra surveyed the column. “Let us at least send a full cooked shoulder with you, for when you do stop.”
Zearyt smiled. “Now…I can’t say that’d be against orders.”
Alucius smothered a grin and let Wendra work, his right hand on the railing of the steps to the porch.
In the end, half a glass later, his escorts left with enough fresh-cooked food to feed the entire squad, and with smiles upon more than a few faces.
Wendra stepped up to him. Her fingers touched his cheeks. “I’ve been so worried.” She leaned forward, ever so gently, and kissed him.
For that moment, the warmth and the welcome drove away all the numbness and pain.
Wendra stepped back. “We need to get you off your feet.”
“I’ll unsaddle your mount,” Lucenda said.
“I can—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Wendra said. “I saw you dismount, and I can feel how much it hurts, and how you can barely stand. We’re getting you up and into a comfortable chair—if not bed.”
“Just the chair,” Alucius conceded. He surrendered the gray’s reins to his mother.
“He is hurt,” Lucenda said dryly. She looked to her son, inquiringly.
“Two cracked ribs, and more than a few bruises.”
“You’ll tell us once your grandsire arrives?”
“Everything.” Alucius knew he had little choice, not between Wendra and his grandsire.
“Do you need—”
“I can manage.”
“He’s still as stubborn as ever,” Lucenda said.
“Not quite,” Alucius retorted.
Once Alucius was inside, Wendra hurried ahead and dragged the armchair from the main room to the archway into the kitchen. “Sit.”
Alucius eased himself into the chair and found her bending down and kissing him, gently, but warmly.
“I would have hugged you, but that would have hurt more than it helped,” she said softly. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“So am I. So am I.”
She gave him another kiss before straightening. “I’ll get you some ale, and you can just sit there and sip it while I finish supper. I’ll tell you what’s happened here. Your mother and grandsire know that, and whatever you tell me you’d just have to tell them again.”
Alucius laughed and waited for the ale. After Wendra set the beaker in his right hand, he smiled and asked, “What happened? You met a soarer, didn’t you?”
“So did you, didn’t you?”
“Takes one to know one.” Alucius grinned, enjoying the warmth and affection radiating from her. “Did you tell Grandsire…or Mother?”
“Your grandsire knows, I think. I didn’t say anything. It…she taught me how to wrap the darkness around cartridges.”
“She taught you more than that—or you’ve learned more than that.”
“It frightened me. So I tried to make sense of it.” Wendra glanced toward the door.
Lucenda entered the kitchen, glanced at Alucius, and nodded. “Left your saddlebags in the foyer. You lost Wildebeast?”
“He was killed in the attack on the way home,” Alucius replied. “I’ll tell you all about it, once Grandsire gets here.”
“It won’t be long. He’s on the lower slope of Westridge now.” Lucenda surveyed her son. “You look better already. Not all that good, but better.”
“You’ve always had a way with compliments, Mother.”
Wendra laughed.
After a moment, so did Lucenda, before she turned to Wendra. “What can I do?”
“If you’d do the potatoes…”
Alucius set the ale on the table and stood.
Both women looked at him.
“I’d just like to wash up…and take care of a few things. It was a long ride.”
He headed for the washroom, knowing he’d have little peace once his grandfather arrived—not until he’d told everything.
122
All through supper, in between bites, Alucius talked, recounting everything from his initial departure from Emal through the attack of the bravos—and even the role of the soarer, and her observations about the ifrits and the Duarchy.
“You think she was telling you the truth?” asked Royalt. “Seems…well…strange…”
“She was telling the truth,” Wendra said.
Both Lucenda and Royalt looked at the younger woman.
Wendra smiled politely and asked her husband, “Where do you think this hidden city is?”
“I don’t know. But if I had to guess…” Alucius glanced eastward.
“That’d make sense,” Royalt said slowly. “Few enough would risk a climb of more than six thousand yards straight up. A few fellows tried, years back. Three died, one never walked straight again. Only got up about two thousand yards.”
“Also…the oblong crystals…I wonder if they’re what we sometimes see at sunrise and sunset,” Alucius said.
“That could be,” mused Lucenda. “but do you think that they’re telling you everything?”
“I doubt they are. From what I’ve seen, though, I’d trust them further than I’d trust any of the ifrits.”
“That’s probably so,” agreed Royalt. “Soarers don’t cause trouble Haven’t for years. What about the Lord-Protector? You think he can be trusted to keep his word? You sure he didn’t have anything to do with that last attack?”
“I’d stake just about anything on that.” Alucius took another sip of the ale. “I wouldn’t put it past his brother. Waleryn makes sandsnakes look harmless—but it takes time to organize something like that attack, and we traveled fast back from Tempre.” He shook his head. “Someone in Dekhron…it had to be.”
“That cowardly cur Weslyn?” asked Royalt.
“No. Weslyn’s a coward, and he had something to do with it—maybe provided the information and had me delayed in leaving Dekhron—but he didn’t set it up. It has to be one of the traders in Dekhron…but who? I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Kustyl might,” suggested Royalt.
“Have him be very careful,” Alucius said.
Royalt laughed. “He can be very indirect when it suits him.”
“Have him be more indirect than that,” suggested Alucius, finishing the last of his ale. He shrugged, as if to ask if they had any more questions.
“Are you ready for some rest?” asked Lucenda.
“No. I’m tired, and I’m still sore. But I’m not sleepy. I’d just like to sit in the main room and spend some time with Wendra.”
Both Lucenda and Royalt laughed.
Alucius found himself flushing and, glancing at Wendra, saw that she was as well.
Royalt stood. “I’m going down to check on the nightsheep.”
Lucenda stood as well. “I’ll take care of the dishes. Wendra—take him into th
e main room.” She paused and looked at Alucius. “Would it be better to stretch out?”
“Right now…sitting actually is easier.” Alucius stood, carefully. He felt better, and he wondered if some of that had come from Wendra when their lifethreads had touched and melded for that long moment. “I feel much better, already.”
“Good,” replied Wendra with a smile.
Alucius walked into the main room, where he settled onto the settee and glanced at his wife, then at the space beside him.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m very sure.”
Wendra eased beside him, on his right side.
Alucius turned his head and murmured into her ear, “You did something…with your Talent.”
“How could I not?” she murmured back. “You hurt so much. I could feel it when you were almost a vingt away. I don’t see how you rode so far that way.”
“I wanted to see you. I wanted to come home.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand gently. “I’m glad, but you could have waited.”
“No…I couldn’t.”
She smiled, and for a time, they sat quietly, Alucius leaning his head against Wendra’s, just enjoying the quiet and her warmth and welcome.
Then, Wendra turned and looked at him. “You don’t think this is over, do you?”
“No. Nothing is over, not until we’re dead, and after what I saw with the Tables, I’m not sure about that. In some ways, though, there’s little we can do now. There’s no certainty of anything, at present. One of the few things I am sure of, from what I’ve seen, is that the greatest evils come when someone willfully creates misery and pain and forces other people to do evil in order to survive and avoid pain. What I am certain about is that we only have each moment once, and that nothing can bring back a moment once it has passed.”
“That’s all true. You didn’t answer my question. Not really.”
“It’s not over,” Alucius admitted. “Whatever lies behind the Tables is still there. But there’s nothing I can do about that. Not with the Tables destroyed. It’s been at least a millennium since that evil ruled Corus, and it might be another before it surfaces again.”
Darknesses Page 50
