Scepters (45 page)

“You’re
right, dear. That is why I am not in the best of moods. I found out that
Frynkel, that paragon of duty, used my seal and ordered Majer Alucius to
Southgate.” Talryn set his goblet on the side table.

“Frynkel
did what?” asked Alerya. “I can’t believe he sent an order under your seal
without your approval. How could he? How could he dare?”

“It
wasn’t exactly an order. He was more clever than that. It was a request from
me. A request, almost begging. He was quite proud of it. Oh… sometimes, the
legacies that we bear.”

“What
will you do?”

“What
he expects. A reprimand and dismissal for him if Majer Alucius succeeds, and
Frynkel’s execution if Alucius fails.”

“He
would expect execution?”

“He
might. He might not. It is a measure of our situation that he would do this,
knowing how I feel. No matter how desperate the situation… Frynkel deserves
execution. At the least, I should sign my own requests, do my own treachery.”
Talryn’s voice was cold. “Yet… there is no one half so well qualified as
Frynkel left.”

“Can’t
you change the order?”

“Majer
Alucius is almost in Zalt. What will happen will happen.”

“You
really are desperate, dearest, aren’t you?”

“I
have no more lancers to spend. I’ve lost my best marshal. For all I know, I’ve
already lost Alyniat as well.”

“Couldn’t
you just have the lancers retreat to the old borders?”

“I
could. Then I would have to have them fight the Matrites there without Majer
Alucius. Perhaps in weeks at worst, in a year at best. And I would have both
those crystal spear-throwers sent at Tempre. The Regent is far worse than the
Matrial was… far worse.” Talryn laughed. “That is why one removes a ruler at
some risk. One never knows who may succeed. Not that I had the slightest to do
with the mysterious death of the Matrial.”

“It
is unlikely that the majer can save our forces, is it not?”

“Unlikely,
yes. It is not impossible. He has accomplished the impossible before. More than
once, I suspect. It is indeed impossible to hold on to Southgate and the
southern high road without him. And that is what is so miserable and
unfortunate about Marshal Frynkel’s ‘request’ under my seal. I suppose I’m as
angry at my own weakness as at his actions. Frynkel knows that I hesitate to do
the less than honorable, and he knew that we could not delay, not and have any
hope of success in saving Southgate.”

“Is
it that vital?”

“The
Praetor of Lustrea is building up his forces to take Illegea and Ongelya, then
Deforya. Or perhaps the other way around. When all is done, there will be but
two lands controlling Corus. We will be one of them, or we will be dead.”
Talryn shrugged. “I did not create this situation. The Matrial and the old
Praetor and perhaps Aellyan Edyss shoved the first stones out of their
positions and began the avalanche, even before I became Lord-Protector. I have
been dealing with what they began, and my choices have always been few.”

“They
are all dead. Does that not tell you something?”

“Yes,
my dear. It tells me that I must be most careful.” He eased Talus from Alerya’s
arms and into his own. “It tells me that I must enjoy those loves and pleasures
that I have, for each season may be the last.” He gently wrapped his arms
around his son for several moments, then straightened and let Alerya take
Talus. “I suppose we should eat. There is little need to suffer hunger as well.”

“Talus
will be up for a time.”

“He
can stay with us, can he not?”

Alerya
smiled softly. “Of course.”

The
three walked toward the small private dining room.

On
a Septi afternoon, seven days after starting through the Coast Range, Alucius
was riding with Feran at the head of the column. His past knowledge of the back
roads and old lumber camps in the Coast Range and the western hills below had
proved useful in finding several encampments with some shelter and water. He’d
never mentioned it, just sent out scouts to various places, and most of them
had reported what he had recalled.

Now,
the valley holding Zalt spread out before them to the west.

“You
can see Senob Post to the right of the high road, just before this road
intersects with the range road from the north. Senob was what they called it
then, anyway.” Even without standing in the stirrups, Alucius could make out
the redstone walls, high enough to be visible from at least four vingts away. “The
town is all in the northwest quarter of where the two high roads join. The
range road ends about a hundred yards beyond the junction. I always wondered if
the builders had meant to go farther south and had been working on the road
when the Cataclysm struck.”

Feran
looked at him.

“I
was stationed here once,” Alucius said. “Remember?”

“I
knew you were a Matrite captive squad leader. You never said where.”

“Here
and in Hieron, but just for a short time there.”

“Then
you know more about what’s west?”

Alucius
shook his head. “I know most of the back roads between Zalt and the old border
to the east, but I never went farther west than a few vingts from Zalt. I know
the road north from here, but not the coast road.” He turned in the saddle. “Egyl?
Were you always in the north?”

“Yes,
sir. Except the one time we went to Hafin. So far as I know, none of the
veterans you brought back were ever in the south.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius turned back to Feran.

“Are
you sure that all these places aren’t what turned your hair gray?” Feran’s
expression and tone were deadpan, but Alucius could sense the amusement behind
the lack of expression.

“No.
I was just born worried. Herders are, you know.”

“For
someone so worried, you’re awfully eager to get into nasty positions.”

“That’s
only to avoid nastier ones,” Alucius quipped back.

“You’re
still an optimist, I see.”

“Always.”

As
they neared the former Senob Post, the road flattened, and they rode past
weathered earthen berms to the south—the site of a former Southern Guard attack
base, one that Alucius remembered all too well. His lips curled into a faint
and ironic smile.

Before
that long, they were approaching the post itself, almost a vingt east of where
the high roads intersected. The post had walls half a vingt on a side and four
yards high. The heavy timbered gates were bound with dark iron and were open.
Each was only about three yards wide. The paving stones of the approach lane
and the courtyard were dusty, and there were faint streaks of rust on the huge
iron hinges of the gates. As he rode through the gates, Alucius scanned the
second, inner gates, designed to be closed by sliding forward along channels in
the stone paving. He could see all too much sand and grit in the channels, and
those channels had always been clean when Alucius was a Matrite squad leader.

They
had barely reined up in the wide, stone-paved courtyard when four lancers and a
gray-haired colonel appeared, moving quickly.

Alucius
recognized him. “Colonel Jesopyr. Majer Alucius. We’re under orders to
Southgate and Marshal Alyniat.”

“Majer
Alucius! I had heard that we might be seeing some reinforcements headed to
Southgate, but I hadn’t expected you. And a majer now!” Jesopyr beamed. “Not
that you’re not most welcome. Most welcome.”

Alucius
smiled wryly. “We have three companies here, the Fifth from the Northern Guard,
and the Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth from the Southern Guard. The
Lord-Protector prevailed upon me.”

“I
imagine he did.” Jesopyr looked to Feran and back to Alucius. “You and your
overcaptain will be our honored guests for the evening meal. You’d be our
guests in any case, but you’re most honored. It’s scarcely every day we have
the only officer who’s won the stars of three nations and lived to tell of it.
I even have a few bottles of a good vintage left.”

“We’ll
enjoy that. As I said, we’ve got three companies here. Can you handle that?”

“We’re
down to three squads. I doubt you’ll be a problem. Jeron and Ghujil here will
help get your men settled. The officers’ quarters aren’t bad, and they’re in
the wing just ahead. There aren’t any senior officers’ quarters, so pick
whatever empty rooms suit you.”

“Thank
you.”

The
two lancers stepped forward.

“The
stables are ahead and to the right,” Alucius said.

“Column,
forward!”

Alucius
left Feran and the captains to sort out quarters for the lancers and squad
leaders. After unsaddling and grooming the gray, he quickly took one of the
vacant officer’s rooms—he had the feeling it had once been Captain Dynae’s, the
commander of Thirty-second Company when Alucius had been a Matrite lancer—and
headed for the library, on the off chance that some of the maps might have been
left, at least the older ones.

As
he walked down the stone-floored corridor, he couldn’t help but note that the
floors were dusty and had lost the gleaming polish of the days when he’d been a
Matrite lancer and later a squad leader. Most of the wall lamps were missing
from their brackets, and the walls showed smears here and there that Captain
Hyrlui would never have tolerated when she had commanded the Matrite outpost.
Alucius shook his head. How the years had changed things.

At
the end of the corridor, he stopped, then stepped toward the door behind which
there had once been a library. He pressed on the lever, and the door opened. He
stepped inside, closing the door behind him and looking across the shelves.
From what he could tell, the library remained much as he recalled, with even
the map racks in one corner. Some of the shelves were emptier than he
remembered, but it appeared as though most of the books remained. Alucius found
it hard to believe that the library had been left, but then, books were heavy
and on short notice hard to burn. Also, they were all written in Madrien, and
the library was close to the officers’ quarters, which might have discouraged
wanton vandalism.

Alucius
found that one of the wall lamps actually had oil, and between his belt knife
and his Talent, got it clean enough to burn. He put it in the sconce over the
desk he’d used years before to study maps, and lit it. Then he began to search
for what he needed, stacking the most likely maps and books on one side of the
desk.

The
first thing he needed to find was to see if the way stations on the highway to
Southgate were shown anywhere. Then, he wanted to see if there were
topographical maps of the hills around Southgate. He thought there might be,
because there had been such maps for all of Madrien, clearly copies of more
ancient ones, but most topography didn’t change that rapidly.

Almost
two glasses passed before the door opened.

Feran
peered in the doorway. “Someone said you might be here. What are you doing?”

Alucius
did not look up. “Studying the maps for the areas to the west.”

“How
did you—You’ve used this library before?”

“Years
ago. I hoped it was still here.”

Feran
stopped and picked up one of the dusty volumes, opening it, then setting it
down. “It’s in Madrien… I guess.”

“They
all are,” Alucius said absently, jotting down the vingtage between back roads
on the northeast sector outside Southgate.

“You
read Madrien, too?”

“I
learned when I was here.”

“I
should have known…” Feran shook his head. “I suppose you’ve read every book in
here.”

“No.
Some of them. Pretty near all the histories and map books. Some of the tactics
manuals.”

“We’re
supposed to be in the mess before long. The colonel seems fond of you.”

“I
like him. He’s honest and says what he means. They were smart to put him in
charge of the outpost here.” Alucius jotted down the last of the figures. “I
may have to take some of these maps. No one else seems to have known they were
here.”

“How
would they?”

“They
could have looked,” Alucius suggested, rising from behind the map desk. “Let me
go wash up, and I’ll join you in a moment.”

“You
keep thinking that the rest of us should be as bright as you are, Majer,
reading and speaking three languages, and… whatever…” Feran snorted. “We aren’t.
We’re just poor lancer officers who didn’t want to be crafters or holders,
slaving until we died.”

Alucius
stopped. He looked at Feran. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been short.”

“You
weren’t short… but sometimes you forget…” Feran left the words hanging.

“I
won’t be long.”

As
he headed for the washroom, Alucius considered Feran’s words. He certainly didn’t
think he was that much brighter than most officers. There was so much he didn’t
know, and it made sense to figure out as much as possible before it was too
late. But he had been born with advantages—his grandsire, for one, and his
mother, for another. And he’d gained another advantage with Wendra. Feran was
right. Most lancers were in either the Northern Guard or Southern Guard because
their alternatives were worse. The Guard life was better than what they had
known. For Alucius, it was to be handled as a means to holding on to what he
had outside the Guard, and his life outside the Guard was better than in it.

He
washed quickly and was relieved to get a smile from Feran when he rejoined the
older officer outside the mess.

“The
colonel said something about good wine?” asked Feran.

“He
offered very good wine when he was in charge of Krost Post.”

“I
could use some.”

“Sirs?”

Alucius
turned to see Deotyr and Jultyr walking down the inside corridor toward them.

The
four entered the mess together to find Colonel Jesopyr and a captain waiting.