Soarers Choice (23 page)

“If
he suspected...”

“No
one would tell him, either,” suggested Dainyl. “Suspicion, or even
announcement, without proof was not enough — as you discovered, sir.”

“You
offered little proof.”

“You
truth-read me, sir, and that was enough, combined with what you already knew.”

“Did
you accept his favor? What was it?”

“Not
for myself. No. For Lystrana and our daughter.” Before Khelaryt could object,
Dainyl went on. “I asked that she be named RA in Tempre. He refused, but
offered her the position in Dereka. I told him I could not accept for her. She
has until Septi to decide.”

Khelaryt
laughed — and kept laughing.

Dainyl
waited, wondering exactly what Khelaryt found so extraordinarily amusing.

Finally,
the Duarch wiped the tears of laughter from his face. “He thinks that by
removing Lystrana from Elcien he will weaken Chembryt and strengthen his own
position. Without your wife as chief assistant, Chembryt will turn to me more
than before. Only her insight allowed him independence. She has all my support to
become RA in Dereka — provided you remain as marshal.”

“I
had not thought otherwise, sir, but I do serve at the pleasure of you and the
High Alector. Also, I do not yet know Lystrana’s decision.”

“She
would be foolish not to become RA — even in Dereka.”

Dainyl
wasn’t about to volunteer an opinion on that. Lystrana had a definite mind of
her own.

“Is
there anything else, Dainyl, not that I can imagine much?”

“Were
you aware that the Archon has ordered the execution of anyone fleeing here
without a pass ordersealed by a High Alector?”

Khelaryt
frowned, clearly concentrating. “That is true, but as Duarch, I can countermand
such as I see fit.” He paused. “Dainyl... even without the restraint of the
shadowmatch, I cannot allow everyone who wishes to flee Ifryn for Acorus to
come here. If I do, within a handful of years, or less, Acorus will spiral down
into the same fate as Ifryn, and no one here will have anywhere to go. I have
told the recorders who heed me to spare the best, and those bearing a child. That
is the best that I can do.”

Dainyl
could sense that Khelaryt truly believed that. What was worse was that he
suspected that the Duarch’s assessment was accurate.

“You
have one more task, Dainyl.”

“Telling
Zelyert? He already knows that you sent me to Ludar. I had planned to tell him,
unless you had an objection.”

“Very
wise of you. You can tell him that I insisted you report to me first on your
return.” Khelaryt smiled. “I would judge that you already did.”

“I
left word that I had to report to you first, and left the Hall before he could
get to me.”

“Creative
avoidance. He won’t care for that.”

“You
would have cared less for the alternatives, sir.”

“You
might be right at that. You’d best go.” Khelaryt paused. “The sash, Marshal?”

“Oh,
yes, sir.” Dainyl eased it off and handed it to the Duarch. “By your leave?”

Khelaryt
nodded.

Even
before Dainyl opened the study door to depart, he could see that the Duarch had
turned back to the windows and the rain.

Dainyl
had to walk through the increasing drizzle back to the Hall of Justice.
Hisomiform was thoroughly damp by the time he stepped into Zelyert’s private
study on the lower level. He closed the door behind him quietly.

Zelyert
stood and did not sit or motion Dainyl to do so. “You were rather arrogant in
dismissing my request to remain, Marshal.”

“No,
sir. I was under the direct orders of the Duarch to go to Ludar and then return
immediately to him after completing the task he assigned me.”

“As
an urgent envoy? What message were you required to deliver to the Duarch
Samist?”

“The
message was that it was highly likely that the Master Scepter would be
transferred to Efra and not to Acorus.”

“You
... you told him.” Zelyert shook his head. “I would say that telling Khelaryt
was one of the most foolish acts possible, but you knew I would say that. With
his Talent diminished, what is to stop the other High Alectors from combining
against him? Why ... why did you do that?”

“He
is still strong enough to stand against any two,” Dainyl pointed out. “If you
stand by him, or Chembryt does ...”

“How
can you say that?”

“Because
he said he might well have to remove one of his High Alectors, if only to prove
he could.”

“With
the shadowmatch lifted, he is thinking more clearly. Whether that is for the
best remains to be seen.” Zelyert leaned forward.

“Besides,”
Dainyl said calmly. “That is what you wished, except that you never wanted to
say so.”

Zelyert
looked hard at Dainyl. “That is rather presumptive on your part.”

“No
more so than your sending me to deliver news you did not wish to impart.”
Dainyl held his shields, even though he knew he was far from full strength.

“You
see too much, Marshal, and someday, perhaps soon, that will be your undoing.”
With scarcely a pause, Zelyert asked, “What will happen in the east?”

“At
some point, Brekylt will attempt to establish himself as Duarch of the East.”

“What
would you suggest we do about that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?
How can you watch Acorus fragment?”

More
easily than watching alector fight alector, and pteridon fight pteridon. “I would
rather not see that happen, but to send the Myrmidons against Brekylt at this
time, or even as soon as he rejects the unity of Acorus, will only ensure
greater fragmentation.”

“Don’t
fight, in order to preserve the Myrmidons so that we can pull the pieces
together later. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“For
the moment,” Dainyl admitted. “I may change my mind if Brekylt acts in a
different fashion. We have no reason to act now, in any event.”

“That
is true, unfortunately.” Zelyert gestured toward the door. “I think it best
that you depart, and we reflect separately.”

“By
your leave, sir.”

Zelyert’s
nod was abrupt.

Dainyl
nodded more politely in return and stepped back, then departed, taking the
lower corridor to the stairs.

Once
outside the Hall of Justice, he waited until a hacker appeared through the cold
rain that had replaced the earlier drizzle. As he sat in the coach headed
toward Myrmidon headquarters, he reflected.

Beneath
his calm exterior, Zelyert had been furious, angrier than Dainyl had ever sensed,
yet Dainyl was convinced the High Alector’s anger was not because Dainyl had
revealed what was to happen with the Master Scepter. The other possibilities
were far worse, because they suggested Zelyert had hoped Dainyl would not
survive the events of the day — or that he was increasingly concerned that
Dainyl was too accurate in his assessments of the High Alector. The other
mystery was why neither Duarch had commented, even in passing, on the green
tinge of the ancients that Dainyl still bore. Khelaryt knew about the initial
cause, but had someone told Samist? Khelaryt remained a mystery. Even with the
shadowmatch removed ... something foreign was there ... and Dainyl could not
determine what it was, let alone what it might mean.

He
made his way from the coach into headquarters quickly, although some rain got
on his uniform. As he passed Alcyna’s study, he stopped and knocked on her
door, then opened it.

She
was alone, reading through a stack of reports. “If you’d join me in my study in
a moment?”

“Yes,
sir.”

Dainyl
continued down the corridor and into his own study. Several reports had been
carefully placed on the left side of his table desk. He ignored them for the
moment. Instead, he glanced out his windows into the rain, now falling in
sheets so heavy that the midafternoon appeared more like twilight, before
settling into the chair behind the desk. He sighed, glancing once more at the
reports, but not picking up either.

Alcyna
appeared within moments. Her eyes went to Dainyl’s face, and she closed the
door behind her. “Submarshal... please sit down.”

Alcyna
eased gracefully into the chair at the corner of the desk. “You have very bad
news. You’re always quietest when matters are worst.”

“The
Master Scepter is likely going to Efra.” Dainyl paused. “Both Duarches know it,
as does the High Alector.”

“When
did they discover this?”

“This
morning. Most of the High Alectors have known for a time, but no one wanted to
tell either Duarch. I would not be surprised if Brekylt has known as well.”

“He
had hinted that he thought Efra was more likely well before I left Alustre.
That was certainly what he was planning for.”

“How
do you think this will affect the Myrmidons?” Dainyl watched her closely, with
both eyes and Talent-senses.

“He
will certainly try to place the companies in the east under his control. I
don’t think Noryan would like that, but whether he would oppose Brekylt I don’t
know.”

“When
might he act?”

“As
soon as he is certain that the Duarches cannot do anything to oppose him.”

Dainyl
considered. He had now met both Duarches and Brekylt. With the loss of the
Talent that had accompanied the shadowmatches, he would have judged Khelaryt to
be the strongest of the three, then Samist, and then Brekylt, who appeared to
have about as much Talent-strength as Zelyert.

“How
close are Brekylt and Samist?”

“Brekylt
has occasionally met with Samist. They could have met more often than that.
Brekylt does not care for Khelaryt. So far as I know, they have not met in
years.”

“What
do you recommend we do?”

“Wait.”
Alcyna shrugged. “Brekylt will do nothing overt, but there may be signs of what
he intends. Your wife or the other assistants may see signs well before
anything affects the Myrmidons.”

“The
signs may already be there, and we may not understand what they portend.”

“That
is always possible, but without some clear evidence, what can we do?”

“Nothing
... yet. I’d like you to draft up a promotion for Captain Sevasya to majer.
Then draft orders deploying Fourth Company to Lysia and placing Captain Josaryk
under Majer Sevasya. Then deploy Third Company back to Norda to deal with the
difficulties raised by the ancients. I’d like to see those sometime in the
morning. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the specifics to anyone.”

“Yes,
sir.” Alcyna smiled. “You think ... ?”

“I
think Majer Noryan is a good Myrmidon, whatever his background, and I know
Majer Sevasya is.”

“It
might work.” Dainyl hoped so.

Dainyl
did not arrive home on Duadi evening until almost a glass later than usual
because Alcyna had wanted to review the orders he had asked her to draft.

Lystrana
hurried toward him even before he stepped through the doorway out of the
continuing chill rain and into the foyer. “Are you all right?” Her eyes and
Talent scanned him. “You’ve been hurt...”

“Call
it Talent-diminished,” he said. “Things have gone from bad to worse, and then
back to only bad.” He closed the door.

She
put her arms around him, and Dainyl could feel the gentle swell of her against
him and could sense the strengthening lifeforce that was their daughter.

“I
heard that Khelaryt sent you as a privileged envoy to Samist. I’ve been so
worried.” She stepped back, but took his hand. “After the girls fixed supper, I
sent them off for the evening. We can eat, and you can tell me about it.”

“There
are a few things you should know,” he said, following her out of the foyer and
to the dining area.

“Only
a few?”

“More
than a few,” he admitted.

“Just
sit down.” Lystrana pointed to the chair at the end of the dining table, then
half filled a goblet from the carafe. “I’ll bring out supper.”

“You
should be the one sitting down.”

“I
didn’t have the day you clearly did,” she called back over her shoulder on her
way to the kitchen. “Besides, when I’m active near the end of the day, Kytrana
sleeps more at night, and that means I sleep better.”

Dainyl
took a sip of the wine, a white from the Vyan Hills, he thought. Within
moments, Lystrana was back, carrying a covered dish and a basket of bread,
still faintly warm.

“It’s
only a fowl and noodle casserole, but I thought it would be warm and filling on
a chilly damp day like this.” She ladled a healthy helping onto his plate and
another onto hers before seating herself.

“It
smells wonderful.” Dainyl took a mouthful, then another.

“I
was worried when I heard that you’d had to go back to report to Zelyert after
returning from Ludar.”

“Do
you know everything?” he asked with a grin after swallowing.

“Only
everything that happens in the Palace,” she replied, trying to hide a smile.
“What did you have to tell Samist?”

“That
it was most likely that the Master Scepter would goI to Efra. You were right.
Khelaryt and Samist both were Talent-magnified by their shadowmatches.”

“Were?”
Lystrana raised one eyebrow in the gesture that Dainyl had often wanted to
emulate, but had never mastered.

“Once
they learned where the Master Scepter was headed, they lost shadowmatches and
the extra Talent. As you thought, their native Talent was artificially enhanced
somehow through the shadowmatches.”

“No
wonder Khelaryt dispatched you to Ludar immediately. Did you have to tell him?”

“No.
He couldn’t ask about it, but when Zelyert dispatched me there to tell him that
Seventh Company had been transferred to Tempre and — by the way — that the
number of refugees flooding the Tables, not to mention the wild translations,
were growing all over Corus ... it was clear he’d be sending me time and time
again until I revealed it inadver-tendy. So I told Khelaryt. When I told
Zelyert that, he reprimanded me. I suggested that he shouldn’t be disturbed
because I did what he’d wanted. He tried to hide it, but he was as cold and as
full of suppressed rage as I’ve ever seen.”