Cadmians Choice (33 page)

“Do you have one
preserved here?”

“No. They are more
intelligent, and very rare. We were never able to capture one. One fieldmaster
insisted that he saw one sink into the ground instantly, but no one else saw
that happen, and there are no other records that support the claim. There are
enough records and other evidence to support the existence of this predator.
Like us, when they die, nothing long remains, but even without
lifeforce-treated shimmersilk, their skin is almost impervious.”

“You think they may
be reappearing also?”

“I think a few have
always been around, but with the reappearance of the icewolves, there may be
more of them.”

“Why would they be
more of a problem than the ice-wolves? Or can’t they be killed with standard
weapons?”

“It’s difficult to
stop them with a standard Cadmian rifle. A skylance or a lightcutter will
suffice—if one gets a direct blast. I’d suggested rifles of larger caliber in
the beginning, but the engineers insisted that was unnecessary. The Duarches
also didn’t want rifles with excessive power in widespread usage, and they didn’t
want to create the idea that weapons used by indigens could come with larger
barrels and cartridges. They felt a single rifle model would discourage
firearms ... invention.”

And cannon, Dainyl
thought. “So the Cadmians should be warned and told that only concentrated fire
is effective?”

“I would suggest
waiting until there are reports of such creatures—if there are. They may not
reappear. I thought you and the marshal should know about the possibility.”

‘Thank you. If they
should reappear, we’ll have some idea of how to respond.”

“I would hope so. The
second matter is a report from Sulerya. The number of translations—and wild
translations—has increased to a level that we would not expect for several
years, yet there are no reports of these translations. My own measurements show
a greater life-force drain.”

“The wild
translations ... isn’t there quite a range? I heard about one—after it was
killed, it didn’t disintegrate. The body just remained there like a lander’s.
How could something like that happen?”

Asulet fingered his
chin. “That has happened, once or twice. My best judgment is that the alector
panicked and tried to become part of Acorus while still in translation.”

“Is that possible?
Becoming part of Acorus?”

“Oh, yes. Even you or
I could do it, if we didn’t try it in a translation tube, but it wouldn’t be a
very good idea. It takes an enormous amount of Talent, and, in the end, we’d be
more like Talented landers—smaller, weaker, and possibly even less intelligent.”

“You speak with
authority. I assume someone tried it, then?”

“Poor Turbryt did. So
long ago that you don’t want to know. He couldn’t figure a way to change back,
and he was desperate enough to try the long translation.” Asulet shook his
head. “He ended up as a wild translation on Ifryn, and...”

Dainyl winced. After
a moment of silence, he spoke quickly. “All the successful translations from
Ifryn are going to Alustre or other Tables in the east? Besides Lysia?”

“That appears to be
the case, but not entirely. There are also more going to Hyalt.”

“They’re not being
reported to the Duarches?”

“I could not say, but
it appears unlikely that Khelaryt knows about them. Zelyert would not, and I
would not be amiss to his knowing, but do not seek him out. He likes to feel
that he is the one discovering and controlling.”

That made sense and
fit with what Dainyl had observed.

“Oh, Dainyl... I
might add that you’ve become more Talented. It won’t be long before Zelyert
notices, if he hasn’t already. Shastylt probably won’t notice, because he tends
to shut out things that don’t accord with his views, and he doesn’t think
people ever change.”

“What do you suggest
I do?”

“Whatever you
can—like all of us. That’s all I had.” Asulet’s smile was both warm and wintry.
“I assume you can find your way back to the Table.”

Dainyl smiled. “I
think so. Give my best to Sulerya, if you see her.”

“That I will, and my
best wishes to Lystrana.”

Dainyl rose, bowed
slightly, and departed. It seemed strange that he had traveled halfway across
Corns for such a short conversation—except that what Asulet had said was not
something that either he or Dainyl would have wanted in writing.

As he walked back, he
saw only two older menial alectors in the corridors, and the Table chamber was
empty.

Once in the chamber,
without hesitation, he stepped onto the Table and concentrated.

In the darkness of
the translation tube, he could sense a web of purple “ahead” ... somehow linked
to Elcien or the tube pathway between the two. It felt as though it were
looking for him, or that whatever lay behind it was doing so.

Could he translate
somewhere else—Blackstear—and then make a second translation? What if he did?
Would that stop the webmaker? Or would he find yet another web “before “ him ?

He certainly didn’t
want to try what he had done the last time. Getting involved with the ancients
was dangerous and likely to get more so. Yet he had to do something. The chill
was seeping into him.

He extended a line of
Talent.

The weblike barrier
strained toward him, colder even than the chill darkness around him, drawing
him toward it. He could sense that it was designed to suck out his very
lifeforce.

Another one appeared “behind”
him.

The ancients had said
that he could change. He didn ‘t want to change, especially after what Asulet
had just told him, but the ancient’s words implied he might be able to do some
things as they did. What if he changed just his Talent-force?

Trying to focus his
thoughts and Talent in the enervating chill, he concentrated on replicating the
sense of greenish Talent he ‘d seen from the ancients. A line of yellow
appeared.

Dainyl needed more
green, and he concentrated on amber and green. What resulted was something
amber-greenish lying over purple pink. He could barely think— but he thrust it
forward, trying to create a link to the blackness and green outside the purple
darkness of the translation tube.

Brilliant
purple-pinkness coruscated all around him, and, if he could have, he would have
closed his eyes, but the brilliance seared through him, blinding even his
Talent-senses.

His teeth wanted to
chatter, and his body to spasm with the frigidity around him, but when he could
again sense what lay around him, the webs had vanished.

A series of green
points flashed around him, and then vanished.

His Talent-link with
Elcien was shaky, but he firmed it up and then flashed through the white-silver
barrier.

His legs shook, and
he half-staggered off the Table, then leaned against it, gasping and
shuddering.

The entire Table
chamber darkened, as if the light-torches had dimmed. Dainyl glanced at them,
but the darkness hadn’t come from them. Another wave of darkness dimmed the
chamber, lasting longer than the first.

Sulerya had said that
using Talent energies in the tubes between Tables was dangerous. Had his
defenses caused what was happening?

A third and briefer
wave of darkness emanated from the Table. Dainyl waited a time, but there was
no more darkness. Finally, he straightened and made his way from the chamber
through the outer foyer and into the outer corridor. He replaced the outer
Talent-lock and turned, more than ready to head back to headquarters, although
he felt more like going home and sleeping.

“Traveling again,
Submarshal? Where?” Zelyert stood several yards down the corridor, smiling,
although there was little warmth in the expression.

“Lyterna. Asulet had
some information—”

“He’s always
interesting. You can spare a moment, can’t you?” Zelyert motioned for Dainyl to
follow him.

Since the Highest’s
question was a command, Dainyl entered the small private study, careful to
close the door behind him. Since Zelyert remained standing, so did Dainyl.
Tired as he was, he was careful to maintain full shields.

“What did he
officially tell you?” asked the High Alec-tor of Justice.

“He fears that there
is another of the lifeforce predators loose. It’s likely to become more of a
problem.”

“Oh... the sander
things. I’ve read the reports on them. They could be a problem for the
Cadmians. Their rifles don’t have enough impact power to break their outer
skin. Does he really think they’ll reappear?”

“He thinks that the
icewolves are the first step.”

Zelyert nodded. “He’s
usually right about those things.”

“You’ve had more
experience with him, sir, but it seems that way to me.”

“Why did he really
want you there?”

Dainyl didn’t even
debate denying that Asulet had another reason. “He’s worried. He’s gotten
information that large numbers of wild translations are taking place. Based on
that, he thinks that other successful translations from Ifryn are taking place.
The alectors who are making the translations aren’t arriving in the places
where he or you could track them, though.”

“I thought it might
be something like that. Did he tell you not to tell me?”

“No, sir.”

“He’s learned
something, at least. What do you intend to do about it?”

“I don’t know that it’s
something that is my task, sir, but I haven’t had time to consider it. I don’t
think translating to Alustre would tell me anything.”

“It wouldn’t, and it
would be futile, and dangerous, not to mention that it doesn’t have anything to
do with your duties. For the time being, Dainyl, I suggest you deal with
Myrmidon and Cadmian matters.”

“I have been, sir.”

“I know, and I
suggest it remain that way, and that it be clear to everyone that you are doing
so.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Dainyl?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re very wise not
to try to deceive me.”

“I wouldn’t even
think it, sir.”

“That’s the mark of a
good marshal... or submarshal.” Zelyert smiled. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Dainyl made his way
out and up through the concealed stairs and though the Hall of Justice. He
still had to report on the sander creatures to Shastylt, and he wasn’t at all
happy with Zelyert’s parting words.

“Not exactly the best
spot for a compound,” observed Culeyt.

Mykel and the captain
had reined up on the low rise overlooking a rubble-strewn set of buildings and
a wall roughly fifty yards square. Rather, the outside dimensions were fifty
yards. One section of buildings had collapsed. The remainder had clearly been
pillaged, with no windows, no glass, no doors. Over the too-low wall, Mykel
could see dirt-covered paving stones in the center of the small garrison. Less
than fifty yards separated the ruined garrison from the two-yard-high weathered
brick walls of the loading yard of an abandoned factor’s warehouse. What
remained of the warehouse was little enough— stone cornerposts, a few charred
timbers, and shattered roof tiles. By comparison, the compound buildings had
fared relatively better.

“No. You could heap
up earthworks here or even timber barricades and fire down. They didn’t expect
anyone to attack them. Not when they built it, anyway. It’s more like an
overgrown town patroller station.”

“Looks like someone
looted it,” added Bhoral, from where he had reined up behind the two officers.

“I’m certain they did.
We’ll camp here until we get things squared away, but this is no place for a
real compound.” Mykel turned his mount. “Captain, Fourteenth Company will
accompany me. Bhoral, pass the word that the others are to do what they can
here for temporary quarters. Sixteenth Company will stand by, ready to ride,
until I get back. I’ll tell Captain Rhystan myself.”

Mykel rode farther up
the hillside to the low crest. From there he could survey Hyalt and some of the
surrounding area. The town lay east of the rise on which the garrison had been
built, with the high road dividing it so that a third lay west of the road, and
two-thirds to the east. The larger dwellings in the town were situated on a
raised flat stretch of land slightly to the northeast of the town square. At
the south end of the town, the road turned eastward, just north of the narrow
creek that wound to the southeast. From the maps, he knew that that stretch of
road connected Hyalt and Syan, some two hundred and fifty vingts east.

He turned in the saddle,
looking out over the hills to the west, covered with a mixture of grass and
junipers, with occasional low pines. He frowned as he noted, farther to the
west, a redstone structure apparently carved into the side of a bluff. A single
freestanding redstone building was situated out from the bluff, and a low stone
wall set off both structures from the surrounding rolling grasslands. A stone
road ran from there toward Hyalt.

After a moment, he
nodded. That had to be where the regional alector was located, but he wondered
why the compound was set so far from the town itself. Then he shrugged. That
was probably for the best. He wasn’t certain he wanted to be close to any
alectors.

At that thought, his
fingers brushed his belt, and he could sense the faint green force emanating
from the concealed dagger of the ancients.

He rode down the
slope toward Sixteenth Company and Rhystan.

“You find it, sir?”
asked Rhystan.

“Find what?” Mykel
grinned.

“Whatever it was.”
Rhystan grinned back.

“The alectors’ local
headquarters are out to the west. Part of it’s tunneled into a cliff. Seems
odd. Everywhere else, they’re close to the center of things.”

“Everything about
this place seems strange.”