Scepters (46 page)

“Colonel,”
offered Alucius.

“Majer.
This is a treat for Captain Kuttyr and me,” added the colonel, “These days, our
mess usually is just the two of us.”

“We’re
happy to enlarge your table,” Alucius declared. “In fact, we’ll be here for
another day, if at all possible. We’ve been on the road for nearly two weeks,
and—”

“Say
no more! You and your men are more than welcome.” Jesopyr walked to the table
against the wall. There he picked up one of the ten or so amber-colored bottles
set at the back. He twisted the corkscrew, then pulled out the cork. “This is
one of the best reds. That is,” he added apologetically, “one of the best reds
that a Southern Guard officer could cart here.” He opened a second bottle as
well, then gestured. “Do be seated. Majer… here, Overcaptain… You captains sit
where you want.”

Jesopyr
stepped back to the table and half filled the plain glass goblet before
Alucius, then filled the other five goblets, emptying the first bottle in the
process. Then he lifted his own goblet. “To our guests. May they travel to
Southgate in health and once more serve the cause of freedom both effectively
and successfully, and may we see them all upon their safe return.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius lifted his own goblet. “And to your hospitality.”

The
wine was good, but even Alucius could tell it was not as good as what the
colonel had been able to offer at Krost years earlier. Then, it was far better
than anything Alucius had tasted in some time, except for the white wine at
Krost on the way to Hyalt.

“The
food is somewhat plainer here,” the colonel said.

A
pair of troopers in white jackets appeared. The plates they set before each
officer held a single round slice of something, covered with a dark glaze.

“Cactus
heart, with berry glaze,” explained Jesopyr. “No one in Madrien knows how good
it is, and so we have it to ourselves.”

Alucius
wondered if it tasted like prickle, and took a small slice to begin with. He
was relieved that it was melonlike in taste, if somewhat crunchy.

“If
I might ask, Majer… did you have the opportunity to stop at Krost Post?”

“We
did, sir. That was where Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth Companies joined us. We
did some joint training there with Captain Deotyr and Jultyr.” Alucius inclined
his head in the direction of the two captains. “Colonel Jorynst had said you’d
been posted west, but he didn’t seem to know where.”

“Jorynst
wouldn’t know where his head was if it weren’t attached, and that assistant of
his, Fedosyr, wasn’t any better. I tried to get Fedosyr discharged, but
headquarters would never listen. Had friends in Tempre, I guess. I never was
much for that.” Jesopyr snorted. “Thought he was a duelist. Always provoking
quarrels. Best thing about being sent here was leaving him behind.”

Feran
was having trouble concealing a smile, Alucius realized.

“Did
you see Fedosyr?” asked the colonel, looking at Alucius.

“Yes,
sir.”

“I
have the feeling I’m missing something, Majer, and, knowing you, it’s something
I might enjoy.” Jesopyr turned to Feran. “The majer can be quite reticent about
his own accomplishments. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

Feran
looked at Alucius, then gave the slightest of shrugs. “Majer Alucius felt that
the new companies did not understand the capabilities of a trained lancer
company. He issued all three companies rattan wands and held exercises. Majer
Fedosyr took some offense and insisted on a personal demonstration match with
Majer Alucius. Marshal Frynkel was at Krost Post and also insisted on the
demonstration. Majer Alucius disarmed Majer Fedosyr quickly with rattan.
Fedosyr claimed that the rattan was at fault and insisted on true sabres. Majer
Alucius disarmed him even faster. Majer Fedosyr pulled a hidden pistol and shot
Majer Alucius. Majer Alucius, although wounded, killed Majer Fedosyr with one
slash.”

“Better
death than the sandsnake deserved,” Jesopyr replied. “Officers like that give
the Guard a bad name. Where was what’s his name—Jorynst—during all this?”

“He
was absent,” Alucius said, “but Marshal Frynkel accepted his resignation the
next morning.”

“Would
have loved to see it.” The colonel laughed. The laugh died out. “That Frynkel…
if he weren’t so devoted to Lanachrona, he’d be as bad as Fedosyr. Probably set
the whole thing up to get rid of them both so that he could claim to Fedosyr’s
friends that the snake did himself in. Fedosyr did, of course. From what they
say, not an officer in three lands can match you, Majer.”

“I’ve
been fortunate,” Alucius demurred.

“Ha!
You’re the kind who makes his own luck. So… after they carted off Fedosyr’s
miserable carcass, what happened?”

“We
rode to Hyalt and destroyed the prophet and his rebels,” Alucius said. “We were
trying to get the town back together when we received the Lord-Protector’s
request. So here we are.”

“Just
like that? Like you rode to Deforya and killed four thousand nomads?”

“The
rebels were a little easier,” Alucius admitted.

Jesopyr
looked to Feran. “Overcaptain?”

“The
rebels were easier, sir,” Feran replied. “The majer brought down a mountain on
them, but he had to be on top of it to do it, and… well, he was laid up for a day
or two. Not like a month when he got flamed by the pteridons he killed.”

“Always
love to see a fighting officer…”

While
Alucius enjoyed Jesopyr’s frank openness and hospitality, he wanted to change
the subject, and quickly. “What can you tell us about the fighting around
Southgate? And here?”

“None
of it’s good. Not so bad as it could be…” Jesopyr waited as the lancer servers
cleared the empty plates and replaced them with cleaner larger plates, then
brought in several serving platters. “Mountain antelope, and had to make do
with rice and some other stuff…”

Knowing
the colonel, Alucius was certain that the dish would be more than just making
do. “You were saying, sir?”

“Oh…
two Southern Guard companies holding on just south of Dimor. Matrites used one
of their knife-throwers to level the gates of the compound there. Once they
took the place back… it seems like nothing much else happened. The Matrites
repaired the garrison and added some lancers and foot, but what they did with
that cursed weapon… who knows? I don’t know how long those two companies can
hold the road up there, because Marshal Alyniat pulled the other four to
Southgate. Could be that the Regent just left enough to keep Dimor and sent all
the rest of her companies south to take Southgate. Now that they’ve got two of
those Talent-cursed knife-throwers here in the south to attack Southgate, it’s
going to be a mess. We’ve had to pull back. Wyerl had Fola, lock, stock, and
hogshead, and then they surprised him with one of the knife-throwers. Cut down
him and four companies in moments. Said that the air was a bloody fog…”

Alucius
had seen that in the battles for Soulend. He’d hoped never to see it again.

“…
had to pull back, of course. We still hold the southwest high road, and Alyniat’s
in command now. Reports are that the Matrites are pulling most of their lancers
out of the north, riding them south in preparation for the battle to take
Southgate. We don’t know how many, but it’s more than we’ve got.” Jesopyr
shrugged. “That’s what I’ve gotten from the dispatches and the dispatch riders.”

“Do
you know if they have any Talent-wielders as well?” asked Feran.

“No
one’s said anything like that. Why?”

“Well…
there seems to be some of that happening. This prophet in Hyalt was a
Talent-wielder,” Feran explained.

“Ah…
that’s why they brought in you northerners. Herders are better at fighting
Talent. You have to deal with those creatures… what are they? “

“Sandwolves
and sanders,” Alucius said.

“Talent—that’s
not good.” Jesopyr took another sip of wine, then a bite of his antelope before
continuing. “No… we haven’t heard about the Matrites using Talent. Unless those
knife-throwers are somehow powered by Talent.”

“They’re
not,” Alucius said. “They’re nasty enough that you’d think so, but they’re
copies of ancient weapons.”

“Hope
they don’t come up with more of those. What we’ve got kills enough.”

Alucius
could agree with that, silently, as he took another sip of the wine, continuing
to listen to the colonel.

Prosp, Lustrea

In
the dim light cast by a single oil lamp set in a battered bronze wall sconce,
the stocky figure in dark blue studied the oblong Table that stood in the
middle of the underground room, a room whose stone walls had been reinforced
with goldenstone pillars salvaged from elsewhere. Then, he stepped up to the
edge of the Table, and his brow furrowed. A faint purplish glow appeared in the
center of the Table, coming from a single purple point of light, then slowly
expanded until the entire surface of the Table glowed purple.

Waleryn
took a deep breath. The glow vanished. He blotted his damp forehead and stood
before the Table, continuing to breathe deeply.

After
a time, he looked down at the Table once more. This time, the glow that
suffused the Table was even. With the faintest of smiles, he concentrated.

Above
the surface of the Table, a grid appeared. A handful of sections were in
purple, but the majority were red. Waleryn studied the grid. Then, another
small section changed from red to purple. A moment later, the entire grid
vanished.

Waleryn
nodded and looked into the reflective surface of the Table, where crimson mists
appeared.

An
image appeared, that of a dark-haired and pale-faced man, an image that, in the
Table, carried a purplish tinge. The image was that of Trezun. Trezun’s eyes
widened slightly, and then he smiled.

In
turn, Waleryn smiled, and concentrated.

A
miniature image of the grid that he had called up moments earlier appeared,
seemingly deep within the Table. Waleryn looked at the image in the Table—that
of Trezun—and made a gesture.

Trezun
nodded and extended a long-fingered hand. The grid shimmered and vanished.

Both
figures smiled.

Then
the Table blanked, returning to its silvery reflective surface.

Waleryn
took a long, deep breath, then blotted his forehead, before turning away from
the Table, which continued to glow after he left the chamber.

After
leaving Zalt, Alucius and the three companies rode for another five days. As
they crossed the warm and dry grasslands southwest of Zalt, lands that verged
on desert, he was glad that he had insisted on taking an extra day of rest at
Zalt for the lancers—and their mounts. He was also grateful for the maps and
his studies of them, because he was able to plan their stops to take advantage
of the former Matrite way stations—and their wells. Both way stations and wells
were useful in the lands to the southwest, especially during fall, because, as
Alucius recalled, the early weeks of autumn were especially dry. The rains
would not come until close to the turn of the new year—and winter.

In
the late morning on Tridi, Rakalt came riding back down the high road, pulling
his mount in beside Alucius.

“What
is it?” asked Alucius.

“Looked
to be Southern Guard scouts, sir. Except it’s a full squad, almost a road
patrol.”

“It
probably is. They may be worried that the Matrites are coming this way. We’d
better bring out the banners, fly them up front in the van.” Alucius turned to
Feran. “I think it would be best if Fifth Company moved into the middle, and we
brought Thirty-fifth Company to the fore. Best we have Southern Guard uniforms
up front and in the rear.”

“What
happened to the trusting young officer I once knew?” asked Feran.

“He
vanished about five injuries ago,” replied Alucius. “He also still doesn’t
fully trust the intelligence of some Southern Guards.”

“That’s
wise.”

“Column,
halt!”

The
order echoed back. Shortly, Thirty-fifth Company had taken the van, and Jultyr
rode beside Alucius. The two standard-bearers were a good fifty yards ahead,
and Alucius had pulled back the scouts to only two hundred yards before the
standards.

Before
long in the distance on the high road, Alucius could see riders. Their approach
was slow, and cautious, and it was a good half a glass before the Southern
Guard squad leader reined up short of Alucius, who had halted his companies.
The squad leader, with a fifteen-man squad drawn up farther back, was plainly
confused at seeing both the Northern and Southern Guard banners, and a Northern
Guard majer at the head of a Southern Guard force.

“Majer
Alucius, squad leader. I’ve been dispatched personally by the Lord-Protector to
report to Marshal Alyniat with these three companies.”

“Sir…
I’m sure you’ll be more than welcome.”

“I’ve
fought here before. That’s one reason why the Lord-Protector sent me,” Alucius
said. While his words weren’t totally accurate, he didn’t feel like trying to
explain in detail.

“Yes,
sir.” The man still looked bewildered.

“I’m
the one who fought the barbarians in Deforya several years back. Because I’ve
worked with the Southern Guard, and there aren’t any more Southern Guard
lancers to send besides these companies, the Lord-Protector sent me.” Alucius
used his Talent to project reassurance.

The
squad leader glanced to Jultyr, and his face relaxed, probably even before the
Talent fully affected him.

“We
just finished putting down the revolt in Hyalt, Kisner,” Jultyr explained. “The
majer took out over a hundred by himself. Dropped a mountain on them. Set the
charges and took ‘em out.”