Scepters (14 page)

As
they neared Northern Guard headquarters, Alucius squared himself in the saddle.
He couldn’t honestly say that he was looking forward to seeing Colonel Weslyn
again.

The
headquarters complex was also unchanged, not that Alucius had expected much
change in two years. The stone wall enclosed a square half a vingt on a side,
and stables, barracks, and officers’ quarters were all of dressed limestone,
with split-slate roofs on all the buildings and stone pavement covering all the
courtyard spaces.

The
two troopers on sentry duty stiffened as the column approached.

“Marshal,
Majer… welcome to Guard headquarters,” called out the older trooper.

“Thank
you,” replied Frynkel and Alucius, almost simultaneously.

“…
was the majer?” murmured the younger sentry, in a voice almost too low to be
heard.

“The
one with the dark gray hair? That’s Overcaptain Alucius. Majer, it looks like
now. He’s the one who killed a thousand barbarians by himself, then was
sander-near killed in an ambush and still took fifty brigands down and rode ten
kays holding his guts in. Brother served under him. Best troop commander ever…”

“Oh…”

As
Alucius reined up before the main headquarters building, he smiled. There had
only been twenty brigands in the ambush, and it had taken weeks for him to
recover.

“You’ve
got quite a reputation, Alucius,” Frynkel murmured with a smile. “The
impressive thing is that most of it’s true.”

“Maybe
a little.”

The
marshal shook his head. “Go ahead and see the colonel. I’ll meet with him after
you do, while you’re getting things settled with Overcaptain Feran and Fifth
Company.”

Alucius
dismounted, then tied the gray to the stone post before opening the worn oak
door and stepping into the anteroom outside Colonel Weslyn’s spaces. A ranker
looked up, momentarily surprised, taking in the uniform and the majer’s
insignia. “Oh, sir, you must be Majer Alucius.”

“That’s
right. I’m here to see Colonel Weslyn.”

“I’m
sure he’ll be glad to see you, sir. He was asked to meet with the new Traders’
Council this afternoon, and he hoped you’d get here before it got too late.”
The ranker rose. “If you’d just wait a moment, sir, I’ll let him know you’re
here.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius offered a pleasant smile, concealing a frown at the extreme
deference. Was that because the ranker feared him—thinking that he had a direct
link to the Lord-Protector?

The
ranker slipped through the door into the colonel’s study, closing the door
behind him, but reappearing almost immediately in the anteroom. “Please go in,
sir.”

Alucius
nodded and stepped through the door, in turn closing it behind him.

The
tall and broad-shouldered colonel was already standing behind the wide desk. “It’s
been a while, Majer,” offered Weslyn, gesturing to one of the chairs across
from him and reseating himself. “You’re looking good… and very fit.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius settled into one of the chairs across from Weslyn. He noted that
the colonel’s thick hair now contained more silver than blond, and a welter of
fine lines extended from the corners of his eyes. His Talent sense also showed
that the colonel’s lifethread was normal—the same amber brown, without the
second purpled thread that was the sign of ifrit possession. But… there was the
faintest hint of purpleness, as if Weslyn had been near an ifrit or influenced by
one. That realization hit Alucius like a wall of cold water, and he was silent
for a long moment.

Yet,
there was little he could do about that, not at the moment. He had no way of
knowing if Weslyn had simply met an ifrit, not even recognizing it, or was a
marginal agent of the ifrits. And what was he going to do? Tell Frynkel that
ifrits existed and that, because Weslyn had been near one, Alucius would have
to back out of the mission to Hyalt?

He
tried to use his Talent to get a better feel about the vague purple-ness that
hovered around Weslyn’s lifethread, but the feeling was so dispersed that he
had no way of tracking it or knowing if Weslyn were even aware of being
influenced. Or, in fact, if the senior officer was being affected.

“You’ve
been tasked with a rather important mission by the Lord-Protector,” Weslyn
finally said. “How well you do will certainly reflect on the entire Northern
Guard.” The colonel’s smile was warm and professional, and Alucius trusted it
little.

“I
do understand that, and that was something I had to think over. Yet, if I
rejected a request from the Lord-Protector,” Alucius replied, “that would not
have spoken well for either the Iron Valleys or the Northern Guard.” He offered
a disarming smile and a shrug. “So I thought that the best course was to
accept.”

“Ah,
yes. If one faces difficult situations, it is always better to try and fail
than fail to try.”

“But
it is far better to try and to succeed,” Alucius replied politely. “That is my
goal. As it has always been.”

“You’ve
been most fortunate in that, and the Guard sincerely hopes that fortune will
continue to follow you.”

Alucius
could sense that Weslyn was suggesting luck as the reason for Alucius’s past
success almost to annoy the younger officer. So he forced another smile. “We
will certainly welcome luck, but we won’t be relying on good fortune. It’s
safer that way.”

“That
it is. Let us hope you have that fortune as well.”

Alucius
paused slightly, then asked, “Could I ask how the Lord-Protector’s campaign to
the west is coming?”

Weslyn
tilted his head, offering a hearty smile, the false one that Alucius had
disliked from the first time he’d seen it. “The campaign is progressing
entirely as planned. I am sure that the marshal can tell you whatever else you
wish to know on your way to Tempre. I assume he will be returning there with
you.”

In
short, Alucius decided, the advances were stalled in the northwest, and Weslyn
wouldn’t know about the southwest, and the colonel wasn’t about to admit
anything. “I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled politely again.

Weslyn
returned the smile. “I do appreciate your courtesy in stopping to see me.”

“I
could do no less,” Alucius replied. “Not for a commander who has always been
most supportive and who has spoken so eloquently on behalf of the Guard.” That
sentence did not quite choke Alucius, although it was certainly true to the
letter of the words.

Weslyn
paused, as if he had not quite expected the answer, before replying. “We wish
you the very best in your efforts in Hyalt. I will not keep you. I know you
have much to do.” He rose from behind the desk.

Alucius
stood quickly as well. “Thank you.” He paused, then asked quickly, “I had heard
you would be meeting with the Traders’ Council. Is this a new council? I had
thought the old one…” He let the words drift off.

“Oh…
this is just a group of traders who decided to meet because they felt they
needed to act together in these troubled times.”

“Thank
you. I hadn’t heard about that.” Alucius bowed his head briefly. “By your
leave, sir?”

Weslyn
nodded, and Alucius left the study, closing the door gently behind him.

Feran
was actually standing outside the colonel’s office, talking to Marshal Frynkel.
“… worried some about the ammunition… hard to get south of the Vedra… larger
bore…”

“We
made provisions for that…”

Both
men broke off speaking and turned toward Alucius.

Feran
didn’t look much older… not to Alucius. He had the same brown hair, except with
a touch more gray, the same deep lines radiating from the corners of his eyes,
gray eyes that still held the hint of a twinkle, and a sense of not taking
everything in life too seriously—only the important matters. He smiled warmly. “Alucius…
or should I say ‘Majer’?”

“Feran…
it’s good to see you. And you did make overcaptain.”

The
older Northern Guard officer laughed. “Not much before you made majer, I think.”

Alucius
looked to Marshal Frynkel.

The
marshal nodded. “He also holds a temporary commission as an overcaptain in the
Southern Guard. It ensures a clear chain of command.”

That
made sense to Alucius. It also suggested a difficult campaign.

“After
you and Overcaptain Feran have taken care of what you need, and after I say a
few more words to Colonel Weslyn, I’d like to suggest that the three of us and
Captain Geragt have supper at the Red Ram,” said the marshal. “Say, a glass
from now?”

Alucius
looked to Feran.

Feran
nodded.

“Yes,
sir,” Alucius told Frynkel.

“I’ll
see you outside the senior officers’ quarters then.” Frynkel turned and walked
past the ranker straight to Weslyn’s door, opening it and letting himself in.

Feran
smothered a smile.

“Why
don’t we go on outside?” suggested Alucius.

“Sir?
Majer Alucius?” interjected the ranker. “You have the second of the senior
officers’ rooms, between the marshal and Overcaptain Feran.”

“Thank
you.”

Alucius
didn’t say more until they were outside the building, and he had untied his
mount and walked the gray toward the stables. Then he looked at Feran. “What’s
really happening out west?”

“We’re
about to get our asses handed to us, unless winter comes early.” Feran shook
his head. “Most of the men are relieved to be headed south.”

“Is
this… Regent that good a commander? I can’t believe… all the collared troops
would fight…”

“We’ve
invaded them. The past fades pretty quick when your enemies are at your
doorstep. We’re seen as Lanachronans now. That doesn’t help.”

“Do
you think she has gotten the collars working again?” Alucius didn’t see how
that was possible, since he’d destroyed the giant crystal that controlled them,
but he supposed stranger things had happened. And the Regent had to have done
something to rally Madrien.

“We
didn’t have enough close combat to tell. They still wore them. Couldn’t tell if
they were working. No one’s said anything, and they were tough enough when they
did have collars before.” Feran shrugged.

“You
at full strength?” asked Alucius.

“To
the man. The last five just arrived from Sudon this morning.”

“How
many are just out of training?”

“It’s
not too bad. Twelve, and I’ve spread them out through all five squads. All the
squad leaders are pretty good.” He laughed. “They should be. You trained half
of them.”

Alucius
led the mount toward the open stable door. An ostler hurried up. “Sir… can I
help?”

“In
a moment, after I get him stalled and unloaded.” Alucius smiled at the youthful
stable hand. “Any possibility of some extra grain? He’s had along ride.”

“Yes,
sir. We can manage that. Oh… you’re in the third stall there, sir.”

Alucius
ended up unsaddling and grooming the gray while he talked to Feran.

“…
heard there was another of those crystal spear-throwers…”

“…
we were on the midroad… said they used it sometimes to throw back the attack on
Arwyn… another reason why the men aren’t that upset about going south and not
facing the Regent’s lancers…”

“What
about the squad leaders you got from Twenty-first Company? Egyl and Faisyn…”

Feran
smiled. “Egyl’s Fifth Company’s senior squad leader, and Faisyn has first
squad, and Zerdial fifth. Sawyn got sent to Eighth Company… doing fine. Anslym…
he got sent to Twelfth. They got hit hard at Arwyn. He… didn’t make it.”

“Sorry
to hear about that…”

“We
all were. Problem is that Dyabal wasn’t that good a captain.”

Alucius
frowned. “Dyabal?”

“Dysar’s
youngest brother—stepbrother really.”

Alucius
nodded. Somehow, that figured.

Before
all that long, or so it seemed to Alucius, he had stowed his gear in the second
room on the upper level of the quarters, the same room he had had once before—a
good six yards by four, with a double-width bed, a large writing desk, twin
wall lamps, an armoire, a weapons rack, boot trees, and an attached washroom.
All of that was a far cry from where he had started years before as a conscript
in a long barracks with over a hundred other lancers.

Feran
was waiting outside when Alucius finished washing up.

“First
time I’ve been put up in the fancy quarters,” Feran said.

“It’s
only the second time here for me.”

“They
have to for you,” Feran pointed out. “You know that you’re the fourth-ranking
officer in the entire Northern Guard?”

“Fourth-ranking?”

“There’s
Weslyn, and his deputy—”

“Is
that still Imealt?”

Feran
nodded and continued, “and there’s Majer Lujat. He’s in charge of everything in
North Madrien.”

“How
is he? I’ve never met him.”

“Not
bad. Not quite so good as you in sensing what’s happening in a battle, but he
listens to his captains and squad leaders, especially the senior squad leaders,
because a lot of the captains aren’t that good.”

“Why
not?”

“Weslyn
picked them,” Feran said dryly. “Anyway, Majer Lujat’s got a good feel for what
companies can do what.”

“And
he’s still in command?”

“The
colonel has to report results to the Lord-Protector,” Feran said dryly. “And
Majer Lujat is only about three years from a full stipend. He’s made it clear
that he has no interest in serving in Dekhron.”

“Smart
man,” murmured Alucius.

“I
thought you were, until I heard you’d agreed to this,” Feran said, the faintest
smile appearing in his eyes.

“I
didn’t see that I had much of a real choice. If the Lord-Protector has to
shift—”

“I
know. Same tale, told again. No support, and the Guard pulls back to defend the
southern part of the Iron Valleys. You herders get squeezed again.” After a
moment, Feran asked. “How’s your wife?”