Soarers Choice (7 page)

“Dainyl,”
said Brekylt with a single laugh, “you do nothing without purpose. That might
be your greatest weakness.”

“I
am certain that I have others.” Dainyl offered a faint smile in return. “As you
may know, there is currently no submarshal of Myrmidons in Elcien. Since the
most able and qualified individual for that position is here in Alustre, I came
here to offer the position to her, and I am fortunate that she agreed to
accept. Noryan will replace her as submarshal here.”

Only
the slightest hint of a pause suggested any thought considered by Brekylt.
“That is interesting.”

“Necessary,
as I am sure that you understand. It’s similar in a fashion to gardening.”

“I’m
certain you had hoped that I would attempt something foolish, Marshal. I assure
you that I will not. At my advanced age one learns which battles to fight, and
I will leave you to fight those you must.” He smiled. “Now that you are
marshal, you will find there are more than you ever believed possible.”

“That
is something I’ve already discovered.”

“Do
you really think you can manage Alcyna?”

“No.
I have never had that illusion.”

“Then
why ... ?”

“I
need excellence even more than loyalty, Brekylt, especially in these times.”

“You
will pay a high price for that excellence.”

“Excellence
always has a high price, as does everything of value, according to what I have
seen, as well as the Views of the Highest.” What Dainyl didn’t say was that the
price for not paying for excellence, in some fashion, was even higher.

“You
quote the Archon well, Marshal.”

“It
is a useful skill.” Dainyl smiled and inclined his head. “I had not meant to
take any more of your time, but I did not wish for you to find out about these
changes in the Myrmidons from anyone else.”

“I
do appreciate your courtesy, Dainyl, and you are always welcome in Alustre.”

“Thank
you.” Dainyl stood and bowed slightly.

He
held his shields at full strength all the way back down to the Table chamber.

Retyl
bowed as Dainyl stepped into the Table chamber in Alustre. “Marshal, we wish
you the best.”

Dainyl
doubted that, but he only smiled as he stepped up onto the Table. “Thank you.”
While he wanted to get back to Elcien quickly, he held his shields, even as he
concentrated and...

...
slipped through the Table and into the blackness beneath — where he found
himself in a turbulence that he’d never encountered before. The entire
translation tube felt as though it were undulating its entire unmeasurable
length, rippling from a nexus of green somewhere beyond the tube and near — yet
lost in the distance. For all that, the blackness beneath the purple darkness
of the tube seemed unmoving.

Whatever
was happening had to be the doing of the ancients ... somehow and in some
fashion.

For
a long moment, Dainyl did not even seek out the brilliant white locator of
Elcien. Then, he reached out with Talent, but found the seemingly shifting
nature of the tube made concentrating on the locator difficult. His Talent
probe vanished as if he had never extended it.

He
tried again, conscious of the chill seeping into him, but just as his probe
seemed to touch the locator, the tube twisted.

Dainyl
jabbed quickly a third time and linked with the Elcien locator.

Even
so, he felt as though he tumbled through the rapids of an unseen river before
he flew through the silver-white barrier.

He
avoided stumbling over his boots as he emerged on the Table at Elcien, but
staggered in trying to regain his balance. Both guards had their weapons aimed,
and Dainyl strengthened his shields before even completely recovering his
balance.

“No!
It’s the marshal!” Chastyl looked up at him from the end of the Table.

Dainyl
jumped off the Table and stood beside the Recorder of Deeds. “What’s happening
with the Tables?”

“I
don’t know, sir. Everything ... it’s strange. We’ve had three wild translations
in the last glass, and the whole grid... it was pulsing.” The recorder extended
a Talent pulse into the Table. “It peaked a little while ago, and it’s
beginning to subside.”

“Do
you know what caused it?” While Dainyl certainly had his own ideas, he wanted
to know what Chastyl thought. Dainyl had the feeling that Retyl had known there
was some sort of difficulty and had refrained from warning him.

“No,
sir. It just... happened.”

“Has
anything like this happened before?”

“I
don’t know of anything like that. It might be because the Tables in Tempre and
Hyalt haven’t been repaired yet.”

Dainyl
didn’t know what else to say about the translation tube. “Thank you for warning
the guards not to shoot me.”

“Oh,
you’re welcome.”

Dainyl
nodded and turned toward the door. He noted that there were now no Talent locks
in place, and that made sense, given the guards inside the Table chamber.

He
was halfway down the corridor to the steps up to the open section of the Hall
of Justice when Zelyert stepped out of his private study.

“Dainyl...
a moment of your time, if you would.”

“Yes,
sir.” Dainyl turned and headed into the High Alector’s study, one of the more
spartan he had ever seen, with little more than an ebony table, two chairs, and
two bookcases, all lit by lighttorches on the windowless stone walls. He closed
the door.

Zelyert
seated himself and motioned to the other chair. Dainyl took it and waited.

“I
heard from Khelaryt that you were impressive in your briefings, and successful
in conveying a veiled message to High Alector Ruvryn.”

“I
doubt it was that veiled.”

“That
is not of the matter. He will report what happened to Samist. How did your
visit to the submarshal in Alustre go?”

“I
offered her the position as submarshal here in Elcien. She had several
questions, but after I answered them she accepted.”

“What
did you promise her?”

“Nothing.
I did mention that Shastylt had told me that she and I were planning a coup.”

“So
she is aware that Brekylt intended to betray her to save himself, if
necessary?”

“She
was doubtless aware of that all along. Brekylt was her only way to power. I
have offered her a way that seems less fraught with danger.”

“You
phrase that in an interesting manner, Dainyl.”

Dainyl
shook his head slightly. “Any way to power is dangerous.”

Zelyert
smiled faintly. “Now that you have dealt with the ... difficulties in Alustre,
I would trust you will not be away from Elcien so much.”

Dainyl
smiled politely. ‘That will depend, sir, on what future difficulties arise.”

“You
will have a submarshal.”

“That
is true, and Alcyna is a superb administrator.”

Zelyert
offered a smile even more faint than the last. “You intend to continue to travel?”

“Only
as necessary, sir. I have little love of travel for the sake of travel. Nor do
I like spending time away from my wife.”

“How
did Brekylt take your visit?”

“He
intimated that I would have great difficulties in controlling Alcyna. He said
he would not do me the favor of attempting to attack me, and that I would learn
which battles to fight and which to avoid.”

“He
has always operated in such a fashion,” replied Zelyert. “How did you respond?”

“I
told him that was something I had begun to discover.”

“What
do you think he believes about Alcyna?”

“That
she will cause us great difficulty, and that will make his efforts to gain
control of the east of Corus that much easier.”

“You
are assuming a great deal, Dainyl, and not wisely.”

“I
do not believe it is unwise to assume that Brekylt seeks power. He has
attempted to control or suborn the recorders and regional alectors in the east
— as well as a few in the west. His actions indicate that he is clearly of the
opinion that the Master Scepter will go to Efra and not Acorus, and that the
Duarches will be unable to rule as they have. I am not assuming he will be
successful in his efforts, but to disregard what he has done and the
implications behind those actions would also be unwise.”

“You
suggest an unlikely set of probabilities.”

Dainyl
did not think so, but he smiled. “Brekylt’s motivations come from seeking
power. I defer to you in his likelihood of success, but that probable lack of
success does not mean he will not create great difficulties in the near future,
and I would prefer to be prepared for whatever efforts he may undertake ... or
cause others to undertake.”

“Being
prepared for such efforts is wise, so long as it does not take excessive
resources.”

“I
believe I understand that as well, sir.”

“So
long as you do.” Zelyert stood. “I wish you the best, Marshal.”

Dainyl
rose easily, but not abruptly. “Thank you.”

“And,
Dainyl, remember that even the most able of indigens and landers are only
steers, to be used as necessary.”

“Yes,
sir.” Dainyl could feel Zelyert’s eyes on his back as he left the High
Alector’s study.

Outside,
on the boulevard on the south side of the Hall of Justice, Dainyl managed to
find a free hacker in less than a tenth of a glass.

When
he returned to headquarters, he was pleasantly surprised to find a complete
proposed schedule for both First and Seventh Companies for the next month, with
a cover note from Undercaptain Zernylta, politely requesting his review and any
suggestions for improvement, since she had not prepared a report for him
before.

He
read through the schedule, and made a note to tell her about the need for a
designated standby on Decdi, in case the duty flier was sent on a long run, and
the need to schedule transport for the Table engineers from Faitel to Hyalt.

She
had also attached the latest report from Colonel Herolt on the First Cadmian
Regiment, with a written question as to whether he wanted the reports forwarded
to him with any comments she might have or without comment. Dainyl shook his
head. Dhenyr had never even considered written comments. Dainyl would have to
see how she handled other matters, but from what he was seeing, Zernylta was
well suited to handling operations and scheduling.

He
picked up Colonel Herolt’s report and began to read. For all the battalions —
except Fourth Battalion — little had changed. All but Second Battalion were
understrength, but no significant new casualties had been reported. On the
other hand, with the reporting delays, Dainyl probably knew more about what had
recently happened with Third Battalion than did the colonel.

He
concentrated on the Fourth Battalion report: Fourth Battalion, Majer Hersiod
commanding, is currently deployed to Iron Stem, based out of the Cadmian
compound there. In the last few weeks of summer and early harvest, the
battalion has encountered increasing attacks from irregulars believed to be
Reillies and from packs of the large predators termed sandwolves by the locals.
Limited injuries have also occurred from several horned creatures similar to
sheep. Despite increasing casualties, the battalion continues to provide
support to the local Cadmian forces in maintaining order at the iron and coal
mines, and the ironworks ...

Dainyl
shook his head. What was it about Iron
Ste.
and the
Iron Valleys? For two years, the place had created problem after problem.
Now... another new creature? Should he send a squad from First Company? Perhaps
Undercaptain Chelysta and fourth squad — Ghasylt had certainly recommended her
highly enough. If more support were needed, he might be able to detach a squad
from Seventh Company in Tempre, although Captain Lyzetta was operating at close
to twenty percent understrength.

He
needed to send a message to Asulet in Lyterna. As the senior alector in charge
of lifeform management, Asulet might be able to provide more information. And,
in addition to the problems in Iron Stem, Dainyl still had no
i.e.
what was happening in Soupat.

In
the darkness a good glass after sunset, Mykel walked slowly uphill away from the
old garrison that Third Battalion and the two Hyaltan Cadmian companies had
used for the past two seasons and would be leaving permanently in the morning.
The night was dark, because Selena — the brighter moon — had already set in the
west, and the smaller green moon — Asterta — was but a crescent in the east.
Even so, Mykel had little trouble navigating through the darkness that seemed
little more than early twilight with the night vision that had accompanied the
development of his Talent.

Just
short of the jumble of rocks where so much had happened over the last season,
Mykel halted. There were no ancient soarers around, and he hadn’t expected any.
He certainly hadn’t sensed them, but they had appeared to him a number of
times, and only in particular places, always on hills. There had to be some
reason why the soarers had appeared on this particular hill, and nowhere else
around Hyalt, at least not that he knew.

When
he had finally connected himself to the world where he was — and not from where
he had been born — he had sensed a certain darkness that lay beneath. But did
that lie beneath all the earth ... or just beneath the hillside?

He
stood in the night, looking westward, letting his senses extend from him,
especially trying to feel what lay beneath.

In
time, he began to sense the blackness he sought, almost like a river, or a high
road, well beneath the surface of the ground, arrowing westward from where he
stood, toward the battered and half-destroyed compound of the regional alector.
He could also sense his own lifethread extending downward through the very soil
and rocks into that blackness.