Cadmians Choice (61 page)

“Quiet, this morning,”
offered Fabrytal, riding beside Mykel. “Especially for a Londi.”

“I’m sure the word
has gone out mat the evil Cadmians are on the march into Tempre, slaughtering
all in their path.” Mykel readjusted the ammunition belt across his shoulders.
If he had to charge through buildings, he wasn’t going to be able to go back
for shells to reload.

He glanced to his
left and then his right, but the wide low ridge that had separated the orchard
lands from the smaller steads on the outskirts of Tempre held no structures or
dwellings, mainly stands of hardwood and leafy softwood, with almost no
evergreens. Despite the heat of summer, me grass beyond the shoulder of the
high road was green.

“Looks peaceful
ahead,” the undercaptain went on.

“It will be for a
while. It might even be until we reach the alector’s compound.”

Ahead, the high road
arrowed on its descent directly toward the River Vedra. Ahead, but appearing to
the left of the high road where it cut through the city, were the twin green
towers that flanked the river piers. From the maps and the briefing from the
submarshal, Mykel knew that the regional alector’s complex was at the end of
the high road, below another ridge that separated the structures from the River
Vedra.

In the distance,
across the River Vedra was the southernmost part of the Westerhills, the trees
on the distant slopes indistinct in the morning haze. Mykel could only tell
that the trees appeared to be mixed softwoods and pine, with near-continuous
canopy of foliage.

A shadow fell across
the road, followed by another, and then three more, as the pteridons circled
above the Cadmians.

Mykel kept studying
the high road, and the steads beside the road down toward Tempre. Before long,
the steads with smaller patches of land and orchards consisting of only a half
score of trees gave way to small dwellings and shops—-and all were shuttered.

“They knew we were
coming,” said Fabrytal.

“It looks that way.”
Mykel raised his voice. “Scout squads out!”

The undercaptain
turned. “Scout squads!”

The two half squads
broke off from the main column, one angling east, the other west. They were to
scout the two boulevards parallel to the high road. With the pteridons
circling, and three companies on the high road, Mykel doubted they’d find much,
but it would have been foolish not to look into the possibility of ambushes or
flank attacks. Fortunately, the streets and boulevards of Tempre were wide, and
none of the buildings, save the towers by the piers, were more than three
stories, if that.

Some few houses weren’t
shuttered, and in places, when he looked down side streets, Mykel could see
people here and there. But the high road itself was so quiet that the loudest
sound was that of hoofs clicking on the stone. Even the rankers were silent.
Just before the high road ended at the walls before the regional alector’s
compound, it passed through gardens on both sides, each side bordered with low
gray stone walls. Stone paths wound through the grass and under the carefully
pruned trees, or alongside the profusion of flowers in their stone-edged beds.

Mykel could feel
himself getting edgier as he and Fabrytal followed the vanguard past the
gardens and toward the stone complex ahead. Waiting before them were the two
sub-squads he had dispatched to survey the side boulevards.

“East side. No forces
to report, sir. There’s a new compound—gray stone—a half vingt east of here on
the cross road. It’s got a blue banner.”

Mykel nodded. He
would have wagered that compound was where the so-called Alector’s Guard was
based. “Ride back up there to observe. If you see anything, or any more forces,
I’ll want a report as soon as possible.

“Yes, sir.” The
acting squad leader nodded, then turned his mount.

“West side. Nothing
to report, sir!”

The lack of
opposition only made Mykel even more concerned as he rode toward the ungated
entryway to the alector’s complex. The gray granite walls surrounding the
buildings were low, not more than a yard and a third high. The single building
comprising the regional alector’s compound was modest compared to the palace of
the Duarch in Elcien, although the main front entrance did boast a small
pillared entrance with wide stone steps. The building itself was set before the
low hills bordering the south bank of the Vedra, hills planted or cultivated in
a fashion similar to that of a park. Before the structure was a wide paved
plaza.

As his force deployed
across the plaza, Mykel ordered, “Companies! Halt! Staggered firing lines!
Seventeenth Company, to the rear of the building!”

Even as close as he
was to the structure, he could sense no one around. Had the regional alector
fled? Had everyone?

The pteridon carrying
the submarshal settled on the gray paving stones less than fifty yards from
Mykel. The submarshal still held his skylance casually ready as Mykel rode
toward the creature and its flier.

“Majer ... is your
squad ready?” asked the submarshal.

“Yes, sir.” Mykel
paused. “Most of the city is shuttered. We didn’t see anyone anywhere near the
boulevards or the main roads. There is a new compound to the east. It appears
to be where the forces we fought yesterday were based. I have it under
observation.”

“A wise precaution.”
The submarshal’s tone was dry. “If they are ... unavailable, it may prove a
suitable basing point for you and your forces. We’ll discuss that later, if necessary.
For now, we need to take the alector’s headquarters here. You may not find
anyone inside, but we need to make sure. Check the lower levels carefully. Once
you’ve secured each level, send one of your men to report. If you see any
alectors, unless they surrender immediately, withdraw and inform me. I’ll await
your reports here.”

“Yes, sir.” Mykel
rode back to the front of the column.

“Third squad forward!”
He had picked third squad because the majority of rankers were settled
veterans, andhe was familiar with them.

He dismounted at the
foot of the steps, and handed the roan’s reins to one of the Cadmians who would
maintain a close watch on the front entry. After the others dismounted, he
ordered “Squad forward.”

Mykel held his rifle
at the ready, although he let the third squad scout go up the wide stone steps
to the arched entry first behind the stone pillars. He and Ryket—the squad
leader—followed, flanked by two other rankers.

The circular entry
hall, beyond the plain granite arches and the four-yard-high double golden oak
doors, bound in brass, soared a full two stories. The edge of the hall was
ringed with goldenstone columns, set in pairs, roughly four yards apart.
Octagonal green and gold marble tiles comprised the floor, with black diamonds
filling the spaces between the larger octagonal tiles. In the middle of the
hall was a statue of the Duarches. It might have been a duplicate of the one in
the square in Hyalt.

The echo of boots on
stone heightened the feeling of emptiness.

From the entry hall,
two wide corridors branched. Mykel took half the squad and took the left
corridor, sending Ryket and the other ten men down the right side. All the
studies and spaces along the corridor that paralleled the front of the
structure were empty.

“Spooky, sir,”
murmured Mergeyt, the ranker following Mykel. “No one here, and it’s not even
an end-day.”

“They didn’t have the
ability to stand up to us.” And the pteridons, and they knew we were both
coming. The decision to abandon the building and Tempre made sense to Mykel. He
just wondered where they’d all gone and how they’d known the Cadmians and
Myrmidons were on the way.

There was not a
single person in the upper two stories of the structure, and yet it was as if
everyone had walked away from their studies and desks and left everyuiing in
place, as if they knew they would be back—after an inconvenience.

The other matter was
that every door had been left unlocked and unbolted—except one, a slightly
larger door set in a stone frame in the northwest corner of the building. It
might have been a storage closet, but Mykel didn’t think so. He could sense the
residue of the purple energies of alectors.

“What do you think,
sir?” asked Ryket.

“There might be a
staircase behind that. If anyone’s left, they’ll be down there. Let’s see.”
Mykel studied the lock, protected with some form of energy. “Stand back. Rifles
ready.”

“Rifles ready.”

Mykel decided to try
his shields, struggling with the unseen grayness, before he raised his own
weapon, concentrating, squeezing the trigger, and willing the bullet to the
lock.

The lock exploded,
and one of the fragments slammed into Mykel. He rocked back, glad he had
thought about the shields. Several chunks of bronze lay on the green marble
tiles at his feet.

“... see that?”

“Open it,” Mykel
ordered quickly, as much to cut off murmurs and rumors as to see what lay
behind the door.

Ryket stepped
forward, rifle in one hand, then pulled the door lever, stepping back quickly
and bringing up his rifle as the door swung open. No one stood behind the door.
There was a narrow landing at the top of a narrow circular stone staircase
leading downward. So far as Mykel and third squad had been able to determine,
the staircase was the first access to the underground sections of the building
that they had seen.

Mykel almost nodded.
He could sense more strongly the pinkish purpleness that suggested alectors had
been here recently. “Ryket, dispatch someone to the submarshal. Have him report
that the upper levels are clear and that we’re proceeding down to the lower
level. Make sure he reports to the submarshal that none of the studies or
chambers were locked, except the one to this staircase.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mykel gestured to the
scout. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He followed the scout
down the circular stone staircase, a staircase that extended far more than one
level, it seemed to Mykel. At the bottom was another corridor running back
eastward, apparently underneath those above. It was lit dimly by a series of
lights in brackets affixed to the stone walls. The lights were unfamiliar to
Mykel, providing a steady glow, but he saw no oil reservoir beneath them.

The sense of alectors
was stronger, but not strong enough to suggest any that close. Mykel took
several steps to the first door on the right. Opening it revealed a small
storeroom, one in which linens and towels were stacked, presumably for use in
the wash chambers on the top level, off the large study presumably used by the
regional alector.

Mykel studied the
corridor. There were no doors on the left side, at least not for the next
twenty yards. The next door revealed a carpentry and cabinetry shop, where the
tools were neatly racked. The door after that showed an empty chamber.

Ahead on the left was
the only doorway on that side of the corridor, and it was set in stone. The
sense of purple was stronger behind that door, and the entire door was encased
in the kind of energy that had bound the lock that had exploded.

The scout reached for
the handle. “It’s locked. The handle ... it feels funny.”

“Leave it.” Mykel
turned to Ryket. “Send another messenger to the submarshal. Tell him that
everything’s clear except one room that may have some alectors in it.”

“You think so, sir?”

“If they’re anywhere,
they’re here.” Mykel smiled faintly. “I don’t think I want to try to shoot open
another lock.”

“Ah... no, sir.”

“We’ll just wait here
for the submarshal.” Mykel stepped back.

While the door
suggested something of power lay behind it, Mykel wasn’t about to investigate,
not after what had happened with the lock on the door to the lower level.

As he flew leading
the Myrmidons of first squad in observing the majer’s advance into the city,
Dainyl realized that he had not seen a single rider anywhere on the main roads.
The wide boulevards were empty, something he had never seen in any city in all
his years of flying. Even the great river piers were empty.

When the Cadmian
forces were at last drawn up before the gray granite structure that held the
regional alector and the functionaries who normally administered the area
around Tempre, Dainyl circled the area, barely above the gray slate tiles of
the roof, glancing down at the open and empty courtyard in the center of the
gray granite building. Then he brought his pteridon down onto the stones of the
paved area before the building.

After giving the
majer his orders on entering and checking the building, he dismounted, then
stretched his legs and walked around. Finally, he settled back to wait,
although he kept his eyes and senses checking the area.

A quarter of a glass
later or so, he walked toward Hyksant. “Send someone up, not Galya, to fly
recon around us.”

“Yes, sir.” Hyksant
gestured. “Brytra, for the next glass, you get to do recon around the city. If
you see anything we should know about, get back to us.”

Brytra nodded, and in
moments, she and her pteridon were airborne.

Several moments
passed before the undercaptain spoke again. “The RA didn’t want to stay around,
sir.”

“It doesn’t look like
anyone did.”

“He has to have
thrown in with the rebels in Hyalt, then. Why else would he leave?”

Dainyl nodded. Why
indeed? Also, the recorder had to have been involved. How else would Fahylt
have known when and where to send out his Alector’s Guard?

More important from a
personal standpoint, Hyksant’s observations illustrated that all too much of
what Dainyl had felt and assumed for some time was anything but obvious to all
but a handful of people. That meant that, if matters did not go well, his
position would soon be untenable. The two letter dispatches in his tunic would
help—but only if he succeeded in his plan. If not, worst of all, his failure
could reflect adversely on Lystrana and Kytrana. Dainyl hadn’t forgotten what
had happened to Kylana after Zestafyn had gotten involved in matters where the
senior alectors around Samist hadn’t wanted him.