Cadmians Choice (19 page)

His Talent-senses
indicated that the chamber was empty, but his hand still sought the butt of his
sidearm, even as he reinforced his shields. The doorway to the hidden chamber
that adjoined most of the Table chambers slid open. Dainyl stepped forward and
off the Table.

The recorder who
stood in the opening of the usually hidden doorway smiled, an expression both
humorous and ironic. “Rather an impressive entrance, Submarshal, if chilling.”
The doorway closed behind her, leaving the two alectors alone in the chamber.

“Just chilling,”
replied Dainyl. A female recorder? He hadn’t realized that there were any.

“Your shields are
also impressive. You will pardon me if I do not attempt to test them.” The
recorder was slender, a good head shorter than Dainyl, and wore dark green
trousers and tunic, unadorned, although the tunic was short-sleeved. Her boots
were black, and her eyes were green, unusual for an alector.

“I’d prefer that you
didn’t,” Dainyl replied.

“A rather unfortunate
series of events has occurred folowing a number of your translations, Submarshal.”

Dainyl shrugged. “That
may be. The results were not of my choosing. I would have preferred totally
uneventful translations.” He continued to study the recorder.

“Asulet suggested the
same.” The recorder grinned. “By the way, I’m Sulerya. I’m his daughter.”

Dainyl was not
surprised that the senior alector in Lyterna had placed his daughter well, but
Asulet had never mentioned her. “Might I ask why you seem more cordial than
your peers?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I
was the first, and for a time, the only female recorder. Total nepotism. My
father insisted on it. Since he doesn’t insist often, and since he is, in fact,
effectively the duarch of Lyterna, no one wanted to cross him.”

Sulerya’s words and
feelings rang totally true to Dainyl.

His shields still up,
he decided to press. “You know that Brekylt and Alcyna are sending messages to
others in Lyterna?”

“It’s no secret there
that Paeylt wishes to make changes my father opposes. That’s one reason why he
has been unable to rest for the past three centuries.”

Dainyl had no idea
who Paeylt was.

“Why can’t your
father... deal with Paeylt?”

“He controls the
engineering facilities there. Father holds the environmental facilities and
support services. No one else has the expertise of either. It is a delicate
balance. Failure of either would destroy Lyterna, and the destruction of
Lyterna would create a downward spiral in lifeforce all across Acorus.”

“So they are locked
in a stalemate, and Paeylt is younger and will use time to force your father?”

“That is his hope.”

“What do you—and your
father—expect of me?”

“Father was quite
explicit.” Sulerya offered a rueful smile. “He told me not to harm you, to
answer your questions honestly, but not to oppose actively the other recorders
or the Highest of the East.”

“He’s playing a deep
game.” And one that might just be hard on a certain submarshal, Dainyl
reflected silently.

“It’s the only game
that offers hope.”

“Can you explain why?”

“Yes.”

“Then would you,
since you’re supposed to answer my questions honestly?”

“Perhaps we should
adjourn to my private study?”

“The hidden one?”

She nodded.

“Who knows about
those, besides the recorders and their assistants?”

“The High
Alectors—mostly. The marshal. Some of your predecessors did. Tyanylt did not.”

The stone doorway
reopened, and Dainyl followed Sulerya through, noting carefully the
Talent-mechanism. Sulerya’s Talent was as deft as her father’s as she closed
the hidden entrance.

Her study was smaller
even than the space Dainyl had occupied as a colonel, and held but a black
chest, set against one wall, a writing table, and three wooden chairs. The
single wall hanging was a pen and ink drawing of a seaport—Lysia. She closed
the study door, took one chair, and waited for Dainyl to seat himself.

“In return for answers,”
Sulerya began, “Father and I ask one stipulation.”

“What might that be?”
asked Dainyl warily.

“That you report
nothing you learn from us until you can verify it from your own observations.”

Dainyl paused. “There
must be a reason for that, beyond protecting you two. I doubt Asulet needs
protection, and I’d wager you’ve found ways to protect yourself.”

“It’s to protect you.”

Dainyl needed to
think about that for a moment. “It’s also another form of assurance for you and
your father. I become another player, and that expands the complexity, and
keeps Zelyert, the Duarches, and Brekylt and Alcyna from acting even more
precipitously.” He laughed softly. “That’s assuming I survive. Realistically, I
don’t have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I’ll abide by the stipulation.”

“Father said you
would. He said you’re one of the last truly honorable Myrmidons.”

Not only was that
assessment frightening, but Dainyl also recognized the direct play on his own
sense of honor. “An appeal to my vanity as well.”

“Of course ... and
your honor, of which there is too little in these desperate days.”

“Let’s start there,”
Dainyl said. “Why are these desperate days?”

“You know as well as
anyone. There’s not enough lifeforce mass to support all those who wish to
translate here from Ifryn. Zelyert is trying to create situations that depict
Acorus as far less desirable. What he doesn’t understand is that such
depictions will only assure that the least honorable and most desperate Ifrits
on Ifryn will attempt the long translation here. The others will use their
influence and position to translate to Efra.”

That, unfortunately,
made sense to Dainyl. “Surely he sees that.”

“I’m certain he does,
but he sees no alternative. The mass of hangers-on around the Archon are
Talent-rich and poor in all practical skills. If the Master Scepter is located
here and too many of them followed, they could swallow all the excess lifeforce
on Acorus and turn all alectors into beings with lifespans shorter than those
of the indigens. The Duarch of Elcien has worked to persuade the Archon to send
more alectors with technical abilities before those on Ifryn perceive how short
time is there. He has had some success, especially in obtaining Table and
translation engineers, and a handful of biologists and life-form specialists.”

“Where does Brekylt
fit into this? He opposes Zelyert, but is he backing the Duarch of Elcien?”

“No. His patron is
the Duarch of Ludar, and both he and Samist believe that the Master Scepter
should come to Acorus—without the Archon and his hangers-on. They have not said
so, but their plans have. They have also persuaded the Archon to translate a
number of ambitious younger engineers. They have gone to Alustre— Fordall, in
practice. There are others, as well, but we cannot track them once they leave
the Table chambers, and the recorders where they have appeared have not been
helpful.”

“The engineers and
the recorders—they seek total control of the Tables and translation tubes?”

Sulerya smiled. “Shastylt
underestimates you.”

“I’m not sure about
that. I’m wondering if he’s setting me up against Zelyert to clear his own path
to being High Alector. Then he could either dispose of me, or make me marshal,
as suits his needs.”

“He could be. That
would be incredibly foolish.”

“Are you the only
recorder not supporting Brekylt and the Duarch of Ludar?”

“No. Chastyl in
Elcien is Zelyert’s creature. That’s why you never see him. Then there’s
Delari. She’s the recorder in Blackstear, and, of course, Myenfel in Lyterna is
loyal to Father. Except for Lysia, all the other recorders east of the Spine
strongly support Brekylt. Lu-dar belongs to Samist, and so do Hyalt and Faitel.
Jonyst in Dereka stands alone, but he would not oppose Father, and he is
honorable. The others cooperate with those backing Brekylt and Samist, but
their support is tacit or coerced through various measures.”

“Such as?”

“Patronyl in Tempre
would prefer to support Father, but not Khelaryt, and his family resides in
Alustre. Nomyelt in Soupat has an un-Talented son who is a squad leader in the
palace guard at Ludar. That sort of thing.”

Dainyl mentally
counted. Three recorders backed Asulet; one backed Zelyert; seven backed
Brekylt and Samist, two others went along with them, while one was independent,
whatever that might mean. “How many supporters have the Duarch of Elcien and
your father lost to the recorders recently?”

“Not that many. Most
Table travelers have strong shields.”

Dainyl decided to let
the mention of the attacks inside the translation tubes wait for a bit. “Just
who is Paeylt? Beyond opposing your father?”

“He’s the head
engineer in Lyterna. He designed and laid out the larger cities, except
Southgate. Father had Arylan plan Southgate as an indigen and lander port, and
Dramuria, of course.”

“Of course?” Dainyl
wanted to shake his head.

“He felt that there
ought to be areas where the landers and indigens had more freedom. He wanted to
see if that resulted in faster and more efficient lifeforce growth, but they
had to be isolated, so that, if they became too destructive of lifeforce, they
could be controlled.”

“Did it?”

Sulerya shrugged. “It
worked in Dramur, but not in Southgate.”

“What about the
western isles?”

“That was tried.
Putting Tables there would have stressed the world too much. The lack of Tables
and the distance meant there was no oversight and supervision. Predictably, the
indigens destroyed the ecology within a few hundred years. When the Archon
found out, he was less than pleased. The survivors were either destroyed or
relocated. The isles were reseeded with unsentient fauna and supporting flora.”

“You obviously
control the Table here, but what about the Myrmidons?”

“Captain Sevasya is
Khelaryt’s daughter. He insisted she command here, and she’s one of the oldest
Myrmidon captains. Alcyna and Brekylt have not involved her. Instead, they
transfer the Myrmidons most loyal to the Duarch of Elcien here, as well as the
occasional troublemaker.”

Dainyl had known all
along that there was far more than he knew taking place, but he now realized
just how ignorant he had been. How much more should he trust Sulerya? Did he
have any real choice if he wanted to survive? “How does a recorder create the
purple Talent-arms? Through the Table?”

“Yes. It takes
experience and practice.”

“I’ve been attacked
by them three times—twice in the translation tubes.”

She frowned. “That’s
not good.”

“No, it wasn’t,”
Dainyl said dryly.

‘That’s not what I
meant. Feeding that kind of energy back into the links and the grid could set
up a nasty energy feedback system. Conceivably, it could funnel life-force
right out of the whole world, or destabilize the grid. It could also destroy
the user.”

That meant someone
wanted Dainyl dead very badly— or one of the junior recorders was far too eager
to do

Brekylt’s bidding...
if not both. Unless it wasn’t a recorder, reflected Dainyl. “Could it be
someone else uing a Table?”

“Any highly Talented
alector could use a Table for that—given enough practice and experience—but who
else would have the access and experience?” She paused. “It could be that
Brekylt has suborned an assistant to one of the older recorders.”

“Without warning them
of the dangers?”

Sulerya laughed. “Brekylt
has never been known for undue concerns for his followers, despite his seeming
warmth.”

That certainly fit
with what Dainyl had observed. “Could that destroy the tubes? Especially the
long links to Ifryn? Without excessive loss of lifeforce?”

Sulerya cocked her
head, as if thinking. Finally, she replied. “It’s possible, but cutting the
links, without moving the Master Scepter here, would sever the lifelinks of
every alector as matters now stand.”

Dainyl nodded. “You’re
on speaking terms with the other recorders, aren’t you? Or message terms,
anyway?”

“You want me to point
out that these attacks have been made and the dangers?”

“I don’t see how it
could hurt. If it doesn’t reduce the attempts, we’re no worse off, and the fact
that you’ve been told about them indicates that at least some of the victims
have escaped, which might suggest ineffectual tactics with high risks for
everyone.”

“I can try.” She
smiled. “I’ll walk over to the Myrmidon headquarters with you. Sevasya should
be there this morning. She’ll be glad to see you.”

If she were, thought
Dainyl, she’d be among the few of the Myrmidon commanders in the east who was.

They both rose, and
Dainyl followed her from her study through the Table chamber and out through
unguarded doors. The corridor to the staircase had been cut dirough solid
stone, unlike most of the other Table chambers. Beyond the doorway at the top
of the steps was a walled courtyard. The warmth of the sunlight was more than
welcome, but the air was moist, and he suspected that, even for him, Lysia in
summer might be too damp.

“What’s Captain
Sevasya like?” asked Dainyl as he and Sulerya crossed the paved compound courtyard.
His eyes took in the immaculate pteridon squares, and the cleanliness of the
walls and windows. “Her reports are always precise, but they don’t convey much
beyond great and quiet competence.”

“You obviously have
not met her,” replied Sulerya.

“No. My service has
been in the west.”

“I’ll let you decide
for yourself, Submarshal.”

“You’re just like
your father,” Dainyl replied with a laugh. “He only said what he wanted and not
a word more.”