Soarers Choice (8 page)

There
might have been a few streaks of purple as well... he concentrated — and the
blackness vanished. After forcing himself to relax, to experience everything
around him, he once more began to gather in the blackness beneath, as well as
something else — a line of purplish mist that lay right above the darkness.

Slowly,
he turned, until he faced the garrison, looking eastward. To the east, the
blackness angled more deeply into the earth, until his senses could trace it no
farther. He turned back to the west until he looked into the night, once more
in the direction of the regional alector’s compound. The purple mist had
something to do with the alectors — perhaps their Tables?

He
shook his head. If he had studied the Table in Tempre more closely, he might
well have a better
i.e.
... but he had not.

After
another quarter glass or so, he began to walk down the gentle slope, back
toward the garrison. Rhystan was waiting outside the west gate. “Majer?”

“It’s
me, Rhystan.”

“Who
else would it be at this time of night?”

“You
worried that I might get hit by alectors’ lightning again?” Mykel chuckled.

“When
you go off in the night, it’s not always good.” Rhystan shook his head.

“I
needed to get away to think,”

The
captain laughed softly. “I can barely see, and you’re walking around as if it
were broad daylight.”

“I’ve
always had good night vision. You know that.”

“You
have lots of talents, sir. Could be that you have too many.”

Mykel
understood what Rhystan meant. “What am I supposed to do? Let my men die
because captains — or majers — shouldn’t do certain things?”

“In
some ways, Majer, I’m glad that I don’t have to make those choices.”

There
was a silence.

“Fabrytal
said that seltyr’s daughter helped nurse you back. How did she get to Tempre?”

“Women
in Dramur can’t inherit. Her brothers died, and Vaclyn killed her father. Her
cousin got the lands. She was sent to Southgate to her mother’s brother or
cousin, and he sent her to run his nephew’s household in Tempre — at least
until he finds a wife. I’d asked her for some information, and Fabrytal
pressured her into taking care of me. He worried about me being unconscious too
close to the regional alector’s headquarters.”

“That
was smart of him, but how did he get her to agree?”

“I
don’t know.” Mykel laughed. “I wasn’t awake enough to listen.”

“Seems
sort of strange, the way she keeps turning up.”

“More
than a little, but sometimes things happen that way.” Mykel didn’t believe that
for a moment. All he knew was that, in some fashion, he and Rachyla were
linked, but he couldn’t have explained why or how.

“Which
way do you think the colonel will send us?” asked Rhystan. “Back to Northa, I
mean?”

“I’m
not sure he will,” replied Mykel. “Sixth Battalion was sent to Soupat. Fourth
Battalion is still in Iron Stem, and Fifth is up north dealing with Reillies.
Troubles seem to be happening faster than they can be put down.”

“That’s
true, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“It
might, if we knew more,” Mykel admitted, “but no one tells Cadmian majers and
captains that much.”

“Not
until they’ve fouled up and want us to fix things.”

Mykel
agreed with that, too. He only wondered what else was likely to go wrong — or
already had.

Quattri
had been a very long day for Dainyl, and he was more than glad to retire with
Lystrana to their bedchamber almost immediately after the evening meal. He’d
undressed and pulled on a robe. Lystrana stretched out on the smooth white
cotton spread that covered the deep blue wool blankets, propped up against the
headboard by three pillows.

Even
sitting on the high stool away from the foot of the bed, Dainyl could sense the
separate essences of both Lystrana and Kytrana.

“You
still have some of that greenish force around your shoulder,” Lystrana mused.
“It’s as if it’s diluting itself through you, rather than fading away.”

“I’m
turning green?”

“Just
a faint tinge. Most people won’t sense it. Do you think that it’s just the
result of your wound or something the ancients did?”

“Both,
I think.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have survived without their aid.”

“Why
would they want to help you? Do you think it’s some sort of subterfuge?”

Dainyl
frowned. “Some sort of Talent-spread illness that will infect others? Do I feel
ill or unhealthy? To you, I mean? I certainly don’t feel that way.”

Her
forehead furrowed. After a moment, she replied, “You seem strong and healthy,
but I don’t understand why they would help you.”

“They
said that they owed us a debt for saving the world, but that if we did not
change, we would destroy it. The old one also said that the sword with which
Rhelyn wounded me was their responsibility and that I would have died had I not
reached them.”

“They
do not use Tables, either, do they?”

“They
have the mirrors, but they seem to be able to translate to other places where
there are no mirrors.”

Lystrana
tilted her head. “Do you think we could?”

“The
only times I’ve managed anything like that, I had to use ... counterfeit, in a
sense, their greenish Talent.”

“I
don’t like that.”

“I
didn’t either.”

“No,”
she said slowly. “I meant that it suggests there is something more powerful
about their Talent.”

“There
is. Shastylt and Asulet both noted that the ancients were the only force able
to destroy pteridons.” Dainyl chuckled wryly. “Lightcannon will as well.”

“You’re
tired.”

“The
translation back from Alustre was hard. I think it was because the ancients
were doing something. The entire translation tube was undulating, like you
might do to a heavy rope or a cable, if you whipped it up from one end. Chastyl
said that they’d received three wild translations, and one of the guards in the
Table chamber in the Hall of Justice was ready to cut me down....”

“Guards
in the Table chambers? Here on Acorus?” Lystrana frowned.

“It’s
something that the recorders are doing now, over the past few days. All sorts
of translations are arriving from Ifryn.”

“That
sounds like Ifryn is collapsing — or close to it — and that the ancients know
it and are preparing to attack in some way. If they keep doing that to the
tubes, not many will translate successfully from Ifryn here. Guards in the
Table chambers.” Her frown was far more expressive than any headshake could have
been.

“I
couldn’t prove it.” Dainyl stretched, stifling a yawn, “but I think the
ancients’ power is limited. Their technique with the green Talent is better,
but there can’t be that many of them.”

“There
aren’t that many of us,” she pointed out. “And there won’t be many more if the
ancients keep the successful translations low. Do you think you should tell
Asulet, or the Duarches?”

“How
can I tell them much? I can mention the sense of greenness in the last
translation to Asulet. I’ve already sent him a message about another new
creature around Iron Stem. So I may have a reason to go to Lyterna before long.
But if I say much more, then I risk being destroyed because I haven’t been
truthful. I couldn’t tell Shastylt everything. He would have used it against
me.”

“So
would Zelyert,” added Lystrana sadly. A quizzical expression followed. “What
new creature?”

“I
don’t know, except the Cadmian reports say that it is horned and similar to
sheep, and that it’s caused casualties — and that’s not like any sheep I ever
heard of.”

“Doesn’t
it strike you as strange that all of this is happening now?”

“Strange?
No. It’s predictable. We’re likely to be more vulnerable, at least during the
transfer of the Master Scepter, and the ancients have to know that more
alectors are coming to Acorus. There’s been a rebellion and unrest as alectors
seek to change who holds power on Acorus. At the same time, we’ve seen new
predators, or a resurgence of old ones and greater efforts by the ancients
against the pteridons. To me, it all follows. They’ll strike at us now because
we’re not really unified and because, if they don’t, we will get stronger and
wipe them out.”

“And
yet they saved you.”

When
Lystrana put it that way, Dainyl didn’t care for the implications at all. Had
he. somehow, even without his own knowledge, been subverted to the goals and
desires of the ancients? And if he had not, why had they not only spared him
when he’d been in their power, but actually saved him?

He
stifled another yawn.

“Dearest...
you need some sleep. It will all make more sense when you’re rested.”

She
was right about his needing sleep, but Dainyl had the feeling that what the
ancients had in mind would not be any clearer in the morning or, indeed, at any
time until it was too late for him to do anything about matters.

With
all the details and difficulties involved in moving Third Battalion from the
old Hyalt garrison to the new compound north of the town, it was the following
Londi before Mykel felt matters were settled enough for him to take Fabrytal
and Fifteenth Company on an armed reconnaissance of the half-destroyed regional
alector’s complex in Hyalt. He had wanted to get there before the alectors
returned, but not before he had the companies relocated in a more defensible
position. Still, as of Decdi evening, the squads maintaining the security
perimeter around the area had not reported any activity.

Mykel
had not seen any reason to take the more circular patrol route to the north.
Instead, he had ordered the company along the main route to the compound. For
the first vingt away from the square in Hyalt, the way was paved, but after
that it deteriorated to a packed clay and gravel road that circled around low
hills covered with the brush and junipers that seemed ubiquitous west of Hyalt.
The road was wide enough for easy travel with two mounts abreast, and
hard-packed enough that where ruts existed they were shallow.

Despite
the haze that created an even greater silver sheen across the otherwise
cloudless green sky, the morning sun was warm on the back of Mykel’s gray and
maroon Cadmian uniform tunic. He shifted his weight in the saddle, gingerly, in
order not to jolt his still-tender shoulder.

“You
think we’ll see any strange creatures, Majer?” Fabrytal rode to Mykel’s right.

“These
days, I’m not certain what we’ll see or where we’ll encounter it. We might see
anything, and we might run into nothing.” Mykel glanced ahead, his eyes on the
scouts a good half vingt out, moving out of sight where the road curved south
and then west again. He did not sense anything untoward, but he had not
forgotten there were some alectors and landers that he could not sense.

His
lips curled into a faint smile. One of those was Rachyla. That should not have
surprised him, but at the time he had discovered that it had. He felt that
there was so much more to her than he could sense.

Less
than a glass later, a half squad of Cadmians appeared on the road, formed up
and apparently waiting for Mykel and Fifteenth Company. Once they neared the
patrol squad, Fabrytal halted Fifteenth Company, and the two officers rode
forward to the Cadmian in charge.

“Majer,
sir, no intruders sighted this watch.” The squad leader was from First Hyalt
Company, and Mykel did not recall the man’s name.

“Any
sign of anyone in the compound?”

“No,
sir.”

“We’re
going in to take a closer look. I’d appreciate it if you’d continue your
patrols. If you see anything strange, or any pteridons flying in, send a
messenger.”

“Yes,
sir.” The squad leader nodded emphatically.

“Thank
you.” Mykel eased his mount westward.

“Fifteenth
Company! Forward!” ordered Fabrytal.

Neither
officer spoke as they rode away from the patrol and led Fifteenth Company up
the last section of the road, a long gentle slope, at the end of which Mykel
could see the redstone cliffs that held part of the compound. The packed dirt
and clay of the road had turned a redder shade, and there was more sand in the
loose dust and dirt, and more space between the clumps of harvest-tan grass.
The wind had picked up, hot and dry out of the south, carrying fine dust that
stuck to the sweat on the back of Mykel’s neck.

“Why
do you think they haven’t sent anyone to repair things here?” asked Fabrytal.

“I
imagine Tempre is a higher priority. It takes longer to transport men and
materials here. They’ve all got to come by the high roads. It’s close to seven
hundred vingts by road from Faitel to Hyalt. That’s after they decide how they
want to rebuild.”

“If
they want to.”

“They
will,” predicted Mykel. There had to be some reason why the alectors had built
in Hyalt in the first place. He just didn’t know what it happened to be.

When
Fifteenth Company reached the level section of ground that stretched eastward
from the line of cliffs, Mykel studied the area with both his eyes and other
senses. What remained of the outbuilding was a heap of redstone, discolored by
soot and ashes. A stone archway and recessed entry provided the access to
whatever chambers and passages had been cut into the redstone cliff. Higher up,
he could see scorched and blackened patches.

“Burned
it good,” murmured Fabrytal.

“I
don’t think they had much choice. How else do you get people out of a stone
redoubt without losing all sorts of men?”

“They
don’t mind losing our men.”

“Some
don’t, and some do. The submarshal doesn’t like wasting men. He kept the
Cadmians here out of the direct fighting, and he ordered us not to deal with
the rebel alectors in Tempre directly unless absolutely necessary.”