Scepters (4 page)

As
early as it was in the morning, the hitching rail outside the pleasure palace
had no mounts tethered there, and the palace itself was still. Wendra drove the
wagon past the empty vingt or more separating the pleasure palace from the
nearest dwellings straight into Iron Stem, and then past the metal shop and its
thundering hammermill, with the smell of hot iron drifting across the road and
thin white smoke rising from the forge chimney.

The
buildings surrounding the central square were all of two and three stories, and
although mainly boardinghouses, were moderately well kept, if one ignored the
peeling paint on shutters and doors. On the west side of the square were the
coopers, the chandlery, the silversmith’s. On the adjoining corner was the inn,
its blue-painted sign an outline of the long-vanished mining mill.

Wendra
eased the team up to her father’s cooperage, and Alucius jumped down and tied
the horses to the post just short of the loading dock. Then the two of them
entered the building, stepping into the mixed odors of oils, varnishes, and
wood.

“Wendra!
Alucius!” exclaimed Kyrial, beaming at his daughter. “Its good to see you both.
I’d thought Lucenda might be the one picking up the barrels.”

“Grandsire
and Mother were kind enough to let us drive in together and handle the buying,”
Alucius explained.

Clerynda
burst from the back room, bustling toward her daughter. “Wendra! Let me see
you!”

Wendra
flushed. “I’m fine.”

“I
know you are. You have that glow. I do hope he’s a boy.”

“She’s
a girl,” Alucius said, “and she’ll be a herder like her mother.”

For
a moment, Clerynda was silent. Then she smiled and shook her head. “Herders.
You take all the surprise out of it.”

Kyrial
just grinned. “I wouldn’t say that. The two of them just come up with different
surprises.”

“You
look pleased, Father,” observed Wendra, clearly trying to change the subject.

Kyrial
smiled at his daughter. “And well I should be, Wendra, after the order I
received yesterday. Fifty of trie best oak barrels. Fifty!”

“Who
could order that many?”

“A
fellow acting as a broker for a group of traders in Dekhron. Came up with half
the cost in hard golds.”

“Your
reputation is finally spreading, Father,” offered Wendra.

“Does
that mean you’ll be delayed in getting us the solvent barrels?” Alucius’s tone
was humorous.

“Sanders,
no. Yours are almost done, and your family has been my steadiest customer for
years. The traders aren’t asking for the first group for another two weeks, and
Korcler’s become a great help.” Kyrial glanced at the youth who was half inside
an oaken barrel, deftly using a curved plane to touch up the inside of the
staves.

Korcler
extricated himself and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Wendra. I just was afraid I’d
lose track of where I was if I didn’t finish.”

“That’s
all right.”

“The
five full barrels are ready. They’re the ones by the loading door,” Kyrial
said. “We’ll have the half barrels and quarter barrels ready by a week from
Quattri.”

“Might
as well get them into the wagon.” Alucius turned.

“I’ll
help,” offered Korcler. “Wendra shouldn’t—”

“I’m
not made of porcelain,” Wendra replied. “Not for another season or two, anyway.”

In
the end, Korcler, Alucius, and Wendra loaded the wagon.

After
the barrels were roped in place, Alucius and Wendra walked back toward the
square to see what produce might be available. After they bought what they
could find, they would need to drive out to the miller’s.

As
they walked away from the cooperage, Wendra said, “Father was pleased.”

“I
can see why,” Alucius said. “Has he ever had such an order?”

“Not
that I know, not in at least five years, and possibly ten.”

“You
were keeping the books before we were married, and you saw all the records?”

“Most
of them. Sometimes, I’d check back to see how Mother had written in sales,
especially if it happened to be something I hadn’t seen.” Wendra looked to
Alucius. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“I
shouldn’t be, but I am. I can’t help but wonder why he got such an order now.
It could be a coincidence, I suppose.”

“You
don’t think so.”

“No.
But I have no reason to think otherwise,” Alucius admitted. After a moment, he
smiled. “Let’s see if they have any of the late peaches. Grandsire would like
those.”

“And
you wouldn’t at all?”

Alucius
flushed, then shrugged helplessly.

Wendra
leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek.

Hieron, Madrien

The
unclad redheaded woman looked at the circle of goldenstone floor tiles, ringed
with black. Within the circle was a misty column—its pinkish purple barely
visible. The gold-and-black circle stood out starkly against the muted green
tiles of the rest of the bedchamber floor.

She
took a deep breath. Then, convulsively, she took one step, and another, to
place herself in the center of the black-tiled circle, forcing herself through
an unseen barrier. Immediately, her entire body twisted, as if being pummeled
by unseen blows. Welts appeared on her pale, freckled skin, then bruises. Her
breath came in gasps, but she remained within the circle for a time, her limbs
lifted and turned like a marionette’s.

A
good quarter glass passed before she forced her way from the circle, where she
stood, slumped, breathing rapidly, outside the black tile line.

Even
before she slowly walked to the dressing room, the bruises that had covered her
skin began to fade—as did the freckles. By the time she stopped before the
full-length mirror and took in her reflection, her skin was close to alabaster
white and unmarked. Her formerly blue eyes were a bluish violet, and her red
hair had darkened to a deep mahogany that was more like red-tinged black.

cold
and triumphant smile crossed her lips. “It worked,” she murmured. “The old
tablets were right. Regent in name only from now on.”

Stepping
away from the mirror, she began to don the clothing she had laid out earlier,
ending with the violet tunic and trousers, the black boots, and, last, the
emerald necklace.

Alucius
stood in the shadows beside a long purple hanging draped from a stone pillar
that was golden throughout—not merely gilded. Overhead, at least fifty yards
above, arched a ceiling of pink marble, so precisely fitted that even his
Talent could detect no sign of a join or of mortar. The same pink marble
comprised the walls. Stretching a hundred yards to his right, the floor of the
hall was of octagonal sections of polished gold and green marble, each section
of green marble inset with an eight-pointed star of golden marble, the narrow
arms of the star outlined in a thin line of brilliant metal that was neither
gold nor brass.

A
man stood on the dais, a tall figure with flawless alabaster skin, shimmering
black hair, and deep violet eyes. He wore a tunic of brilliant green, trimmed
in a deep purple, with matching trousers. His black boots were so highly
polished that they appeared metallic.

Two
smaller figures—a man and a woman—stood before him as he spoke. They looked
like children in comparison to him, though neither was short.

Alucius
listened.

“You
understand nothing. More than two thousand years have passed since we departed,
and you have built nothing that rivals what we left. Even with the dual
scepters we left, and the libraries and the Tables, you have learned nothing.
You squabble among yourselves like spoiled children. All around you were
wonders, and from them you have only found ways to squander your lives.”

The
man lifted his head and spoke, but Alucius could not hear his words.

The
ifrit in green laughed, long, melodiously, then shook his head. “There is no
such thing as inherent ‘right’ or justice among all the worlds of the universe.
The universe does not care. Its rules reward survival—and power. If you would
have what you call justice, you must have the strength
and
the will
to
create it and to
enforce
it
.”

The
woman spoke, and again Alucius could not hear the words.

The
ifrit smiled, condescendingly, before replying. “We create grandeur and beauty,
and grace. We create peerless art where there was none before. Out of mud and
squalor we build such as you see. There is a price for everything. A world can
live forever and be nothing—or it can become a paragon of splendor and art—and
shine in brilliance for a shorter time.”

The
man said a few words.

“You
had the chances, and you did not take them. You, like all your kind, squandered
what you were given. It takes more than luck and pedestrian skill to bring your
will to bear, to change what is degradation and squalor into valor and
splendor. That is especially true in a world of petty and jealous men. You had
the choice between being the child of the Duarchy, the one who would restore
it, or the lamaial. You chose neither path, and that is a choice to do nothing…
and nothing accomplishes nothing…”

Then,
the great hall began to spin, and the walls began to move, closing in… tighter…
and tighter…

Alucius
sat up in the double-width bed, shivering, sweating profusely. After a moment,
he blotted his steaming face.

Wendra
put her hand on his shoulder. “It was only a dream. Only a dream.”

“It
was one of
those
dreams,” Alucius said hoarsely. “One
where an ifrit was explaining how we—I—had failed. I haven’t had one of those…
not since… the hidden city, and before.”

“It
was only a dream…” But Wendra’s voice did not hold certainty.

Alucius
and Wendra rode downhill, eastward into the gray or a late summer morning
before dawn, a grayness that would soon be flooded with the golden green sun of
dawn against a silver-green sky.

To
the west, the half-disc of Selena was paling as the sky lightened.

Asterta
had long since set. The flock had not spread that much so far, and that meant
that, for the moment, they could ride close to each other. Before long there
would be nightrams investigating away from the flock, and ewes and younger
nightsheep browsing and straggling, while the farther they traveled from the
stead, the greater was the likelihood of sand-wolves and sanders.

Alucius
looked at Wendra and couldn’t help smiling.

She
turned. “I like it when you look at me that way.”

“I’m
glad.” Then, he’d looked at her that way for years, ever since he’d seen her
serving ale and punch at a gathering on the porch of her grandsire’s stead.

They
rode for another hundred yards before Alucius guided his gray closer to Wendra’s
chestnut. “You know how I talked about doing something to the cartridges we
used against the wild pteridons,” Alucius said. “I mean when I was coming back
from Deforya.”

“You
told me,” Wendra replied. “We’d talked about it, and how the soarer had showed
me something like that. You haven’t talked about that in over a year. Why do
you bring it up now? Was it the dream?”

“The
last time I had dreams like that was before I ran into the ifrits.”

“You
think they might reappear?”

“I
don’t know. If they do, or if we see wild Talent-creatures… I wanted to make
sure you knew how to fight them off.”

“I
already did… remember?”

“I
know,” he said. “But… I’m worried. I should have gone over it with you before.
That way I’d know, and it would be something I wouldn’t fret about as much.”
Alucius frowned, then continued, “When I think about it, it bothers me, though.”

“Because
we’re using lifeforce?”

“Yes.
It doesn’t take that much, and we can draw a little from everywhere. At least,
I think—I hope—that’s what I did.”

“Show
me. I’ll watch.” Wendra glanced forward at the flock, then back at Alucius.

Alucius
extracted a cartridge from the Northern Guard belt he had taken out that
morning—for the first time in years. He held up the cartridge. Then he began to
infuse it with the same kind of darkness that had brought down the pteridons so
many years before. Once he felt that the cartridge was charged, he leaned
toward Wendra and handed it to her.

She
studied it, then handed it back. “It didn’t seem to take much.”

He
passed a second cartridge to her. “You try.”

Wendra
took the cartridge. Seemingly effortlessly, she eased the darkness of lifeforce
into the bullet, even making sure that none was wasted in the area of casing
and powder.

“Have
you been practicing that?”

“Me?”
The corners of her mouth quirked. “Only a few times.”

Alucius
shook his head. “I didn’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m
glad that you worry. I just don’t want you to worry too much.”

He
laughed. “You’re very good at salving my pride.”

She
grinned. “You’re good at recognizing it.”

Alucius
couldn’t help but smile in return, even as he hoped that she wouldn’t need the
skill with the cartridges anytime soon. Unhappily, he had the feeling that was
a vain hope.

The
slightest frown crossed his brow.

“Did
I do something wrong?” asked Wendra.

“No.
I was just wondering. About the darkness. I’m drawing it. So are you.”

“Do
you feel that we’re taking it from something living? Can you tell if there’s
any lifeforce missing from around us?” asked Wendra.

Alucius
studied the area around them and around the flock. He could not feel any
difference. Then, he worked on infusing the cartridge in the rifle’s firing
chamber with the lifeforce darkness, trying to sense from where he was drawing
that darkness.