Soarers Choice (44 page)

“They
might, but... we don’t have them.”

“Do
you think they’ll actually attack? The ancients, that is?”

“I
don’t know what they’ll do, but I can’t believe they won’t do something, and do
it at the worst possible time for us.”

“You
believe that, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s
frightening.”

Dainyl
didn’t understand that. Everyone had beliefs.

“Marshal.
One reason I’m here, rather than in Alustre, is because I saw one thing. You
don’t always have the best strategy. You’re far from the best politician. But
when you say that something is going to happen, you’re very seldom wrong.
Information is power, and in that respect, you’re the most powerful alector on
Acorus.”

To
Dainyl, the fact that she believed that was chilling. “Now that we’re both
frightened, what else do we do? Did you see the High Alector?”

She
shook her head. “Chastyl said he was at a meeting. He didn’t say where, and he
wasn’t happy admitting that.”

Ludar?
That was Dainyl’s first thought.

“What
will you do next? What do you want me to do?”

“Find
out what you can and help me keep us from sending Myrmidons where they don’t need
to go. I’m going to Dereka tonight.”

“Lystrana
might have some good ideas.” Alcyna paused. “Alectresses tend to support you
more than do alectors. Why do you think that’s so?”

Dainyl
hadn’t noticed that, not exactly. “I could guess. Why do you think so?”

“You’re
more interested in solving the problem and getting the task done. You only want
power as a tool. Most alectors want power to prove they’re the most powerful.
Alectresses are more interested in results than power. Power is nice, but
results count and last longer.”

Dainyl
couldn’t disagree with her conclusion. “Go get some rest,” he finally said.
“I’ll see you later tomorrow. There are multiple reasons I’m going to Dereka. I
hope to be back before midday tomorrow.”

“Yes,
sir.” Alcyna rose. “Some sleep on a decent bed would be good.”

After
she left, Dainyl thought again about her comment about alectresses. It had
taken him aback, slightly, but he’d thought about it, and there was more than a
little truth in it. Most of his promotions and appointments had gone to
alectresses. He’d always trusted Lystrana, from far before they fell in love —
or he had fallen in love with her. And he was always asking what kind of power
other alectors sought, and why. That Alcyna had recognized it so quickly — and
used it to remind him that he should stay task-oriented — was another
confirmation of the submarshal’s abilities.

Less
than a glass later, he took the duty coach back to his house to pick up some
clean uniforms, and then had the driver take him to the Hall of Justice.

Zelyert
was not in the Hall itself, nor in his private study, and Dainyl made his way
to the Table chamber, carrying a small bag of uniforms and personal gear.
Dainyl couldn’t help but force himself to step onto the Table. Smiling at
Chastyl was even harder. “Oh... when do you expect the Highest back from
Ludar?”

The
momentarily frozen expression and the inner shock were enough to confirm that
was indeed where Zelyert was.

“He
didn’t say where he was going, sir, or when he would return.”

Dainyl
nodded. “If he asks, tell him I’m in Dereka, arranging for some matters we
discussed.”

“Yes,
sir.” The words concealed another feeling of puzzlement.

That
was fine with Dainyl. He concentrated on the darkness beneath the Table and
felt himself slip through the mirrored surface and ...

...
into the cool purpleness of the translation tube.

He
concentrated on the crimson-golden locator of Dereka, to the exclusion of all
else, until the locator neared him.

The
number of purplish flashes and streaks were far less than when he had
translated to Tempre a week before, but the looming, yet distant feel of
amber-green power remained, like a cliff overhanging all the Tables, held back
only by some unseen and unsensed force.

The
immensity of that force was so great that he remained immobile as he flashed
through the silvered, crimson-gold barrier and took a staggering step.

“It’s
the marshal!”

As
he took another step to catch his balance, swinging the gear bag slightly,
Dainyl recognized Jonyst’s voice.

The
Recorder of Deeds looked far older than the last time Dainyl had seen him. His
face was lined, uncharacteristically for an alector, and the streaks of white
in his black hair were wider and far more pronounced.

Dainyl
recognized none of the guards, but his Talent-sense registered that two had
translated recently from Ifryn. He did not comment upon that as he stepped off
the Table.

Jonyst
stepped forward with a smile. “Guersa’s still on duty. She will be more than
pleased to take you to the RA’s quarters. I assume that’s where you’re headed?”

“Tonight.
Tomorrow, I’ll be checking on Fifth Company.”

“I’d
thought you might be doing that.”

Dainyl
inclined his head to the doorway that framed the staircase leading up to the
elegant library. “Do you have a moment?”

“So
long as we leave the doors open.”

“We
can do that.” Dainyl led the way.

As
he stepped into the paneled spacious library, for a moment he was startled at
the darkness outside the wide windows overlooking the main boulevard. He should
not have been. Dereka was more than 1,100 vingts east of Elcien, and its sunset
came earlier. Sometimes, though, he was still taken by surprise by the time
effects of Table translation. He set his bag on a carved chair pulled away from
one of the tables, on which were several stacks of papers.

“What
did you want to talk about?” asked Jonyst, standing just beyond the top of the
staircase, where he could hear an alarm from below.

“I’m
worried about the ancients.” Dainyl saw no reason to be indirect with Jonyst. “I
can occasionally sense something that feels like them when I’m translating, and
there’s been a great deal more activity with their creatures in the Iron
Valleys.”

Jonyst
nodded slowly. “You’re more perceptive than most, Marshal. The Table monitors
sometimes show flickers of another kind of Talent energy.” He shrugged wearily.
“We can’t tell where it’s located, or what it might do, if anything.”

“I
thought you might have some thoughts, since this was once a city of the
ancients.”

“Thoughts?
I have more than enough of those. What I do not have is any solid indications.”

“Did
you know that Brekylt is moving heavy road-building equipment to forestall
weather damage in the Northern Pass?” asked Dainyl.

“I
cannot say I am surprised. What will you do?”

“Try
to reduce the resources under his control.”

“I
assume you don’t intend to fight pteridons against pteridons. That would only
increase his power.”

“I
can’t do much if he suborns some of my commanders and turns them against us,
but I’m not about to begin anything like that.”

“You
already moved Seventh Company, and Eighth Company cannot be suborned,” observed
the recorder. “I still don’t see how you persuaded Samist to appoint Lystrana
RA here.”

Dainyl
smiled. “I think, once Captain Fhentyl took over command of Fifth Company, and
it became clear that Dereka Table would not suffer any mishaps, Samist hoped
that I would be splitting my attentions and time.”

“That
alone tells me that he’s a slender brace for Brekylt.”

“Unless
... unless he is convinced that the ancients will strike here.”

“That’s
why ... ?”

Dainyl
nodded. He was only guessing, but little else made sense.

“I
will keep my eyes and Talent looking, Marshal.” Jonyst glanced at the steps
down to the Table. “You know where to find Guersa.”

“I
do. Thank you.”

Dainyl
picked up his bag and walked to the ramps that led down to the main entrance.

Guersa
smiled when she saw Dainyl step out through the archway. He had no
i.e.
why he’d recalled her as a redhead, since she was a
very blond lander, but perhaps it was the hint of freckles or the brdad smile
that had colored his recollection.

“Marshal,
sir. To the RA’s quarters or the Myrmidons?”

“Tonight...
the RA.”

Dainyl
had no
i.e.
if Lystrana was actually in her
quarters, he realized, as he entered the coach, but Jonyst would have known if
she had left Dereka. Besides, Lystrana didn’t like the
i.e.
of using the Tables that much as her pregnancy advanced.

The
coach pulled away from the ancient-built structure and turned south onto the
main boulevard. It felt good to sit, even on the hard bench seat.

After
less than a quarter glass, the coach drew up outside. the quarters, a small
separate wing behind the main building. When he stepped down onto the stone
mounting block, Dainyl realized that while the main structure bordered an area
low in lifeforce, although not dead as Jonyst had suggested, the quarters wing
had been built in an area displaying no overt diminution of lifeforce.

“These
are the RA’s quarters, sir.”

“You
brought her here last week?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Thank
you.” Dainyl smiled and slipped her a gold. “My thanks for helping her when I
could not.”

“Sir...
you don’t...”

“It’s
my pleasure, Guersa. Thank you.”

“Thank
you, sir.”

Dainyl
carried his small bag to the archway, where an iron grillwork door served as an
additional protective measure for the heavy oak door behind it.

He
tugged the bellpull.

Shortly,
a lander girl opened the oak door, but not the grill. Her eyes widened as she
took in Dainyl’s uniform. “Oh ... you must be ... the marshal...”

“Marshal
Dainyl. I was hoping my wife might be here, although I didn’t have a chance to
let her know I’d be arriving tonight.”

“Please
come in ... sir. She said you were welcome anytime. She is dining with ... some
of her staff in the ... I’ll tell her.” She turned a heavy lever and the
grillwork lock clicked open.

Dainyl
stepped into the foyer and waited for her to relock both doors. He stood in the
foyer while she scurried off, taking the white-walled corridor through the
right archway.

Lystrana
appeared, wearing a pale but rich blue shirt, accented with a lighter green
vest and matching trousers. The garments were loose, because even from across
the foyer Dainyl could sense the strengthening but not yet separate lifeforce
that was their daughter.

For
a moment, neither spoke.

Then,
they were in each other’s arms, a tangled mass of emotions with the need to
reassure themselves that the other was indeed there.

Lystrana
broke away, with a smile. “Have you eaten?”

“Not
since breakfast.”

“Then
come and join us. You can leave your bag here. Jylena will take care of it.
We’ve just been served, and there’s plenty, and I’m certain that Garatyl and
Dyena will be honored to dine with the Marshal of Myrmidons.”

“I
could use something to eat.” Dainyl grinned, setting his bag on the small carved
bench on the left side of the foyer.

“Would
you like to wash up? There’s a guest facility right here. It’s closer.”

Dainyl
took advantage of the offer, vaguely bemused by the green marble sink and
facilities.

Lystrana
was still waiting when he emerged.

He
offered his arm, and she took it, guiding him down the corridor to the first
archway.

“How
much should I tell them?” he asked in a low voice.

“No
more than you’d tell Zelyert. They should know that.”

The
dining room was large, a good ten yards in length and close to eight in width,
with a nutwood table, so dark it was almost black, and polished so that it
reflected the light from the brass wall lamps. The floor was goldenstone, also
polished to a gloss. The table was now set for four at one end, two across. One
of the settings was untouched.

Both
younger alectors were standing. Garatyl was slender, painfully thin for an
alector, and was half a head shorter than Dainyl. Dyena was taller, not quite
Lystrana’s height, and muscular. Her eyes were golden-flecked violet, and her
aura was a slightly deeper purple that suggested she might have been translated
to Acorus while her mother was still carrying her unborn.

“Dyena,
Garatyl, my husband, Marshal Dainyl.”

Both
bowed.

“We’re
honored,” offered Dyena, her words echoed by Garatyl.

“I
apologize for disturbing the meal. Please sit down.” Dainyl stood for a moment,
allowing Lystrana to seat herself. It was her honor, and position, as the RA.

The
hint of a smile crossed her lips, and one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly as
Dainyl slipped into the seat at one side of the table, across from Lystrana and
with Dyena to his right.

Lystrana
lifted her goblet, bearing only cider, Dainyl sensed. “To your safe arrival,
dearest.”

Dainyl
lifted his goblet in return. “To yours as well, if belatedly.”

All
four took sips. Dainyl did not recognize the pale amber wine, save that it was
the best he had tasted in weeks.

“I
had hoped you would be able to come to Dereka before too long,” Lystrana said,
“but I had no
i.e.
how long the difficulty in
Blackstear might last.”

“It
wasn’t the difficulty in Blackstear that delayed me so much as what happened
after that in Soupat. Two companies of Myrmidons from Ifryn — or their
survivors — assaulted the Table there ...” In between bites of his dinner,
Dainyl gave a cursory description of what had happened, although he did include
a mention of the lightcannon and the damage it could have created. As he spoke,
Dainyl realized that most of the foot Myrmidons had to have been already
involved in the two attempts. That meant that order on Ifryn was already close
to gone, and that it couldn’t be that long before the Master Scepter was
transferred. He should have realized that sooner, but he’d been so tied up with
details ... or was it because he hadn’t really wanted to accept that Ifryn was
truly dying?