Authors: L. E. Modesitt
It is linked temporarily
to your parasitic tube. Once you leave here, the link will vanish.
Dainyl forbore
mentioning that he had managed to reach the tower without such a link.
The lifespear wound
you suffered allowed you to seek us.
Just how much could
they discover from his thoughts? He pushed that thought aside and stood on the
silver mirror, concentrating on the blackness, on the blue locator wedge that
was Tempre ...
.. . and he was in
dark chill. The locator was distant ... close to the limit of his Talent
reach... and yet, when he extended a Talent-probe, it suddenly was upon him,
and silvered-blue shards flew past him.
Dainyl found his legs
shaking as he stood on the Table in the unadorned chamber in Tempre. Carefully,
he stepped down. Then he sat on the edge of the Table, trying to regain his
strength. He was weaker than he had realized, but glad to be back in the world
he knew. Or did he only think he knew his world?
Thoughts along those
lines would have to wait. He needed to find out what had happened in his absence.
He rose and stepped to the door of the chamber. It took a moment for him to
release the Talent-lock, and then to replace it after he stepped outside into
the empty corridor beyond.
His boots clicked on
the stone floor of the corridor, and then on the steps leading up to the main
level of the building. Both Cadmians had stepped away from the door and had
rifles ready when Dainyl emerged.
“Submarshal, sir.
Sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right. Do
you know where the majer is?”
“If he’s not outside,
sir, he’s been staying close to the compound, sir.”
“Thank you.”
As he walked along
the corridor toward the front of the building, he used his Talent to pick up
the murmured conversation between the two.
“Wonder what he
tangled with ...”
“Wouldn’t want to be
it... alectors are tough. He fell a hundred yards onto solid rock and only had
a broken arm and leg ...”
“Majer’s tough, too.”
“Not that tough.”
At least the Cadmians
had a healthy respect for alectors. Dainyl kept walking.
Once he was outside,
in the early-midmorning sunlight, if under a hazy sky, he went down the steps
looking for Hyksant. The mounted Cadmians on patrol duty eased away from him,
but he saw only a single Myrmidon— Galya—and two pteridons. One was his,
waiting.
Once he neared her
and the pteridons, she smiled. “Submarshal... the undercaptain is at the
compound. We’ve been alternating here.”
“A short flight is in
order. I’d appreciate your remaining on watch here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl climbed onto
the pteridon, trying not to show any weakness. The pteridon rose quickly, and
descended even more quickly, but Dainyl was happy when the pteridon set down in
the open space before the compound, not that far from the three other
pteridons. After he dismounted and started toward the compound, carrying his gear
in his good hand, his eyes took in the solid walls and the well-dressed stone.
Hyksant appeared from
somewhere and hurried toward Dainyl. He frowned as the submarshal approached,
and his eyes dropped to the submarshal’s bound left arm.
“I know.” Dainyl shook
his head. “I was sidetracked along the way. The Tables malfunctioned. I shut
down the Table in Hyalt, but Rhelyn used one of the weapons of the ancients on
me, and I got coated with some ... well, you can sense what it’s like. It
should vanish once I heal.”
“Rhelyn ... ?”
Hyksant appeared as though he didn’t know what to ask.
“Oh ... he’s dead,
and all the rebels are trapped inside Hyalt with no way out. I hope that
Captain Fhentyl is taking advantage of that. We’ll need to fly back there once
we settle matters here. We’ll plan to leave first thing in the morning.”
“What about Tempre,
sir?”
“We’ll leave the
majer in charge until the RA returns. Once that happens, he can turn over
control to the RA and ride back to Hyalt.”
Hyksant nodded
knowingly.
Dainyl let him think
what he would. The majer just might surprise Fahylt when he returned. One way
or the other, one problem should be resolved, either that of Fahylt or that of
the majer. In a perverse way, at least for an alector, Dainyl almost hoped that
the majer came out on top. “If you would show me where we’re quartered?”
“Oh ... yes, sir.”
Hyksant turned. “This way.”
“Was the majer
correct about this compound?” He gestured at the main gate, guarded by a pair
of armed Cadmians.
“Yes, sir.” After a
moment with Dainyl’s eyes on him, Hyksant went on. “He’s been quite proper. He
reserved the largest quarters for you and the next largest for me, and the
other officers’ quarters for my squad and his undercaptains. They found
supplies and fed us. The compound is new, you know?”
“I’ve thought about
that. Fahylt has been preparing for this for quite some time. An independent
force of uniformed and mounted indigen rifles, a stone compound...”
“You think we should
still leave tomorrow, sir?”
“I definitely do,” replied
Dainyl. “The majer has reduced, if not destroyed, his guard. His recorder is
dead—”
“He is?”
“Oh ... I don’t
believe I told Galya that. Yes, he was waiting in the Table chamber. He didn’t
expect three sidearms. Even if Fahylt returns, without a recorder, he’ll find
it harder to get information.” Dainyl broke off his explanation as they drew
closer to the pair of guards. He did not resume speaking until they were
walking across the inner courtyard, away from any Cadmians. “I did make a
detour and deliver a report to the marshal and the High Alector of Justice.”
“We haven’t seen
anyone from Elcien ... or any other Myrmidons. Or Cadmians.”
“I am certain we will
not. They will wait until the outcome is certain. Fahylt doubtless fled...
where he has support.” Dainyl barely stopped himself from suggesting that the
RA had fled to Ludar, but revealing the possible split between the Duarches
would not be wise. “We need to clean up Hyalt, and then get Fifth Company back
to Dereka.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl didn’t respond
to the skepticism behind the undercaptain’s acquiescence. He’d already figured
out how to handle Hyalt, now that the Table was inoperative. It would be
deliberate, but very certain. He might even have to wait several days after
returning to Hyalt, because he would need his full ability with shields, but he
had the feeling his strength was already returning. He frowned. Was there
something about the ancient city that weakened alectors?
“Sir?”
“I was just thinking
about all we have to do.”
Hyksant started up a
set of stone steps. “Your quarters are up here.”
Dainyl followed.
Hyksant opened the end doorway, revealing a single chamber, quite large for a
lander, and at least not cramped for an alector, although the ceiling was lower
than Dainyl would have preferred, but he didn’t have to stoop. Typical
quarters, but the lander-sized bed was triple width.
Once inside, he
turned to the undercaptain. “If you would take care of preparing for our
departure tomorrow? And in about a glass, have someone bring me something to
eat. Ale and whatever there is.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, if you would
find Majer Mykel and have him attend me here.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Hyksant
departed, closing the door behind him, Dainyl stretched out at an angle on the
bed. Overlarge it might be for a lander, but his boots stuck out off the end.
Still, he’d slept on a hard floor for too many nights. His eyes closed.
Less than a quarter
glass later, there was a knock on the door. “Majer Mykel, sir.”
“Come in, Majer.”
Dainyl didn’t bother to get off the bed, although he eased himself into a
sitting position, propped up against the plain headboard. The majer had enough
Talent to see through any charade Dainyl might put on.
Mykel stepped into
the quarters, easing the door shut behind him.
“Pull up a chair and
tell me what you and your men have been doing since I left.”
“Yes, sir.” The majer
took the straight-backed desk chair that would have been both uncomfortable and
too small for Dainyl and set it to one side of the bed, then seated himself. He
cleared his throat. “After you left, and it seemed likely that you might not
return immediately, I ordered the Cadmians into a rotation, with one company
guarding the building, and the other two here at the compound on standby,
except for four mounted patrols of the streets and boulevards...”
Dainyl listened, not
just to what the majer said, but to the manner in which he conveyed the
information. So far as Dainyl could determine, Mykel shaded nothing, reporting
honestly and directly. “... we’ve seen no signs of any more troopers, or anyone
wanting to enter the building. People in the city seem to be going back to what
they usually do, except no one is using the gardens, or the streets and
boulevards around here. We have bought some goods, mutton and some beef, to
supplement the supplies here. I had to draw on the line of credit....”
“That’s to be
expected.”
After Mykel finished,
he sat and looked at Dainyl, waiting.
“Majer?”
“Yes, sir?”
Dainyl could sense
the lander’s wariness behind his formality.
“In the morning,
first squad and I will be returning to Hyalt to deal with what remains of the
rebels there. Until the regional administrator or other proper authorities
return, you are to assume control over the regional administration building and
this compound. I suggest that you continue with very light control over this
area, and not over the city proper, except as necessary for your safety and
that of your men. Once an administrator is in place, you are to return to
Hyalt.”
“If an alector
returns, how am I to determine whether he is the proper authority? Do I assume
any alector who claims to be the administrator is the administrator?”
“I am certain you, of
all Cadmians, Majer, will know.”
“Do I have your
authority to question an alector about that?”
“I doubt it will come
to that, but... yes, if it is necessary. Order and the rule of the proper
Duarches must be maintained. Without that, all would be chaos.”
The majer nodded,
soberly.
Dainyl could sense
that the lander was anything but pleased—and that he well understood what
Dainyl was doing.
Abruptly, the majer
looked squarely at Dainyl. “Sir, might I ask how you were wounded?”
Dainyl laughed. “Even
alectors are not immune to all weapons. It was only a glancing slash, but I was
fighting several alectors at once.” He paused. “That will be all for now.”
“Yes, sir.” The majer
rose immediately and replaced the chair before the writing desk.
“I may have some
additional duties for the Cadmians later.”
Mykel nodded, then
made his way out.
Once the door closed,
Dainyl fingered his chin. The majer had not been at all surprised at being left
in Tempre to sort out matters, and his question about Dainyl’s wound had been
anything but idle. The last thing Dainyl needed was a Talented Cadmian
majer—except the way matters were developing, that was in fact exactly what he
needed.
And Hyksant might not
say much to Fhentyl until later, but if Mykel prevailed, Dainyl could not count
on silence for long. So what sort of accident or mishap would be necessary? Was
there another alternative?
Dainyl stretched out
and waited for his food to arrive.
Less than a glass
past dawn on Quattri, Mykel stood outside the gray stone compound, less than
two yards from Submarshal Dainyl. To the southeast of the two officers, the
Myrmidon squad was readying for liftoff into a silver-green sky dotted with
white clouds. The air was already warm, and the day promised to be hot, not
unexpectedly for late summer.
The submarshal looked
straight at Mykel with his deep blue eyes, so unlike the violet of most
alectors, Mykel had begun to realize. “You are in command of this area, but
only so long as no regional alector is present. I have conveyed the situation
to the High Alector of Justice, but the Myrmidons cannot remain here while
Hyalt has still not been returned to the control of the Duarches. How soon the
Duarches will send an administrator, I cannot say. I doubt that Regional
Alector Fahylt will return, but, if he does, you are to turn the area over to
him. If not, then to his designee or legitimate successor as named by the
Duarches.” The submarshal laughed. “How you determine that legitimacy is a
matter of judgment.”
“I doubt that I am in
any position to argue with an alector claiming such a position,” Mykel pointed
out.
“It is unlikely that
any rebels will attempt to claim such. They would know you would report their
assumption of power. Therefore, any who attack you first are more likely to be
unauthorized to assume administrative control.”
Mykel nodded
politely. That was a set of rules he could accept. Exactly how successful he
might be in dealing with rebel alectors remained to be seen, although he
suspected that his success would rest on just how many alectors were involved.
“Once you are
relieved here, Majer, you are to return to Hyalt. If you are not relieved
within two weeks, you are to send weekly reports directly to me, one copy to
Hyalt, and one to Elcien, by sandox coach.”
“Yes, sir.” As close
as he stood to the alector, Mykel sensed several things. First, while the
submarshal’s wound was healing, the alector had been clearly weakened by what
appeared to be a superficial slash. Given what Mykel had seen of Dainyl’s
recuperative powers in Dramur, Mykel had to believe that the single slash had
come close to killing the Myrmidon officer. Second, around the wound area, the
alector’s aura was tinged with amber-green—and Mykel had never sensed anything
but pinkish purple from any alector. What sort of weapon could have done that
damage? Something like his dagger of the ancients? At that moment, Mykel almost
could feel the heat of the miniature weapon beating through the leather of his
heavy belt, illusory as he knew the feeling to be.