Cadmians Choice (16 page)

Slowly, ever so
slowly, he could sense his shields expanding.

Abruptly, the arms
released.

Dainyl Talent-linked
to the maroon and blue locator wedge, then found it flashing toward him.

In moments, he
shattered the silvered barrier.

Dainyl managed not to
stagger as he stood on the Table in the empty chamber. He studied the chamber,
noting that while it, too, had a hidden chamber, that chamber door was closed.
At one end of the chamber was a statue of a single figure, close to three yards
in height. From what Dainyl could recall from his one meeting with the Duarch
of Elcien, the statue was an accurate representation of Khelaryt. The stone
figure held a silver scepter topped with glittering blue stones arranged to
simulate a flame. A dozen light-torches illuminated the chamber, many more than
in any other Table chamber Dainyl had visited thus far, and in their light, the
gemflame sparkled.

The decorative
hangings on the side walls contained no scenes, but only angular and unfamiliar
designs. Between the two hangings to Dainyl’s left was an archway and a
stonewalled corridor beyond that appeared to end at a wall. His Talent revealed
no one near.

After stepping down
from the Table, he stood for a time beside it, letting his body readjust from
the combination of internal heat and external chill.

Should he have
reemerged in Prosp? Confronted the young recorder? No... he might have emerged
into a lightcutter beam with weakened shields—or his shields might not have
worked for the moment of emergence, and he didn’t want to chance that unless he
had no other options. Should he have gone back to Elcien? In retrospect,
perhaps that would have been wisest, but he hadn’t made that decision, and
immediately attempting another Table journey now before trying to recover
seemed unwise.

Finally, he wiped his
forehead and walked into the corridor, realizing as he neared the apparent end
that it was only a screen wall, with passages on each side around the central
screen. Both the screen wall and the lower archway before it had been finished
with blue ceramic tile, except for a single course at the edge, done in maroon.

His Talent-senses
revealed a large hall beyond the screen wall, with a platform overlooking it.
He could sense but a single person beyond the wall. Still, he held his shields
as he stepped around the wall and onto the platform. The amphitheatre beyond
was dimly lighted by a handful of light-torches. Their illumination was almost
swallowed by the size of the cavern that had to have been carved from the stone
by some version of the road-building equipment Dainyl had inspected in Alustre.
Or did similar equipment still exist in Dulka?

He extended the
slightest Talent probe. The entire amphitheatre filled with a purplish light.
Dainyl could feel the abrupt amplification of his Talent, but not why. In that
light, he saw a young alector, who stood on the platform, holding a bucket and
a brush, gaping at Dainyl.

“You’re one of the
recorder’s assistants?” asked Dainyl.

“Ah ... yes, sir.
Yes, sir. He’s not here. I don’t know where he is, sir.”

“I’m not looking for
him. I’m Submarshal Dainyl, and I haven’t been to Dulka before. I was looking
for Majer Faerylt.”

“The Myrmidon
commander, sir? Oh, no! That was my fault. I should have left the screen in the
regular position. Fa—” He broke off what he might have said. “This way, sir.
This way.” The young alector set down bucket and brush and hurried past Dainyl
and around the screen.

Dainyl followed.

Once Dainyl stood on
the Table side of the screen wall, the younger alector reached up and turned
one of the light-torch brackets.

The screen wall that
Dainyl had thought fixed slid forward and to the left, while a section of the
wall flanking where the screen wall had been pivoted, revealing a corridor
leading to a set of steps—and also concealing any trace of the large cavernous
amphitheatre.

“At the top of the
staircase, sir, through the door, turn right and follow the hallway. It comes
out on the main level of the small tower in the northwest corner of the
Myrmidon compound.”

“And if I went left?”
asked Dainyl with a smile.

“You would end up in
the administration building— that’s where Regional Alector Kelbryt and his
assistants are.”

“Are you from Dulka?”

“Yes, sir. My mother’s
the trade assistant to Alector Kelbryt.”

“And your father is
the Recorder of Deeds?”

The youth swallowed. “Yes,
sir.”

“I won’t tell him
about the screen wall. If I run across him, I’ll just say you gave me
directions.” Dainyl smiled warmly. “It would help to know your name, though.”

“Zudet, sir.”

“You’d like to follow
your father as recorder?”

“I couldn’t be a
recorder here, sir. You can’t be a recorder in the place closest to where you’re
born.”

“Can’t be ... or
shouldn’t be?” asked Dainyl. “Because the ties to the nearest Table are the
strongest?”

“Yes, sir.” Zudet’s
tone was quietly resigned.

“Thank you, Zudet.”
Dainyl turned and headed up the stairs. As Zudet had not mentioned, there was a
Talent-lock on the door, but he released the lock before opening the door and
stepping through, replacing the lock after he closed the door behind him.

He made it to the
main level of the tower and ten yards into the redstone-paved courtyard before
a Myrmidon ranker spotted him—and his insignia.

“Submarshal in the
compound!” The ranker, clearly older from the lines running from his eyes and
the darkness around them. “Sir! At your service.”

“I’m looking for
Majer Faerylt.”

“I don’t believe he’s
in headquarters at the moment, sir, but the duty squad leader would know for certain.
This way, if you would, sir.”

Dainyl followed the
Myrmidon across me courtyard. He could see the lower mountains to the west and
north, rising high enough in the distance to be seen above the walls, even from
inside the compound. The Myrmidon buildings were all redstone, and the pteridon
squares to the south were in good order, with most of the pteridons present,
not surprisingly, late in the afternoon. One squad appeared to have landed
recently and was racking gear. The compound appeared extensive enough to hold
two full companies, rather than the one that had always been stationed there.

“Submarshal in
headquarters!” announced the ranker as Dainyl stepped through the doorway into
the corridor leading to the duty desk.

An undercaptain
bolted upright and waited as Dainyl approached.

“Undercaptain Weltak,
sir. At your command, sir.” Weltak was worried.

That Dainyl could
tell even without Talent-sensing. “I’m Submarshal Dainyl, from headquarters in
Elcien.”

Somewhere down the
corridor was the faintest muttered “Frig!”

“Submarshal... sir!”
The undercaptain stiffened. “There was nothing in the order book that... no one
mentioned that you would be coming to Dulka.”

“There is a point to
unannounced visits and inspections, Undercaptain,” Dainyl said dryly. He was
rapidly tiring of the unspoken presumption that his unanticipated arrival was
somehow unfair or unprecedented. But then, it might well be unprecedented, and
that was not a good thing, from his perspective. “Where is Majer Faerylt?”

“He’s with Regional
Alector Kelbryt, sir. That’s where he said that he’d be.”

Weltak stood,
immobile. Dainyl could sense the conflict.

“I can take you, sir.”
Another undercaptain appeared, wearing his flying jacket. “Sledaryk, sir. We
just landed a bit ago.”

“I saw you racking
your gear. Are the skylances all going in the duty square?”

“Yes, sir. Since this
winter. That was when we got the orders to change procedures.”

Dainyl nodded in
acknowledgment. As he recalled, Faerylt had reported a single skylance lost two
seasons earlier, but he saw no reason to mention it.

“You came up from the
tower, sir?” asked Sledaryk.

“Yes. Is that the
quickest way to the RA?”

“Yes, sir.”

‘Then we’ll go that
way.”

Dainyl let the
undercaptain lead the way, back across the courtyard, into the corner tower,
and down and then into the lower level of the adjoining structure. There they
took the redstone steps up to the second level and halfway along a corridor
before stepping through an archway into an anteroom.

An alector stood and
moved forward as Dainyl entered behind Sledaryk. “Myrmidons are not—”

“Not what?” asked
Dainyl pleasantly. “Submarshal Dainyl. I’m here from Elcien to see Kelbryt and
Faerylt.”

“The RA is in
conference, sir.”

“With Majer Faerylt,
no doubt.” Dainyl was being highhanded. He hoped—and feared—that the suspicions
that fueled his behavior were correct. “Since I’m here to see them both, I’m
certain they won’t mind.” He stepped toward the closed door, strengthening his
shields as he did.

“I’ll announce you,
sir.” The assistant turned and rapped on the door. “Submarshal Dainyl from
Elcien is here to see you.” He waited a moment, and then opened the door,
gesturing for Dainyl to enter.

The chamber beyond
was long and narrow, with a sealed in a dark cherry, and the window casements were
inset in the stone walls, also framed in cherry. The five windows themselves
were each less than a yard wide, spaced slightly more than a yard apart,
extending the length of the outer wall. Against the inner wall were two
bookcases, whose shelves held more small art objects than books. The windows
provided a sweeping but interrupted vista of the mountains.

Two men, one in green
and one in the silver-gray and blue of a Myrmidon officer, stood facing Dainyl.
Neither spoke.

Dainyl strengthened
his shields.

The door closed with
a near-inaudible clunk.

Purpled Talent-bolts
flew toward Dainyl.

His shields held, but
the intensity of the joint attack against his shields unbalanced him, and he
staggered back against the heavy door for a moment. Then he straightened,
widening his stance.

Both the other
alectors began to move toward Dainyl, keeping well away from each other.

“He has shields, but
not much more,” murmured Kelbryt.

Another set of
Talent-bolts splattered away from Dainyl.

From the way they
moved, Dainyl understood that they intended to batter at him, probably
physically, and even with Faerylt’s lightcutter, as soon as they got closer to
him. At close range the impact of Talent and weapons on his shields would be
even greater.

Dainyl needed to act,
and Faerylt was clearly the less Talented alector.

Still holding his
shields, Dainyl drew the lightcutter and fired at Faerylt’s face. The momentary
shock was enough for the majer to hesitate, his shields flickering. In that
moment, Dainyl fired again—Talent-boosting the lightcutter’s beam through the
majer’s less than effective shields.

Dainyl turned to
Kelbryt, who lunged toward the sub-marshal.

Dainyl wrapped his
own shields around Kelbryt, contracting them, so that nothing escaped—not
sound, not energy.

For a time, only the
heavy sound of Dainyl’s breathing filled the chamber.

A heavy thud followed
as the dead form of Kelbryt dropped forward onto the stone floor with an impact
that reverberated through the stone.

Dainyl took several
steps and rested against the table desk, his lightcutter trained on the door to
the chamber. No one entered.

As he tried to regain
some modicum of strength, he considered what had happened. Kelbryt... the name
was familiar, yet he’d never met the regional alector, not that he knew. Zudet
had to have told his father that Dainyl had arrived, and the recorder must have
warned the RA. If not that, then they had already planned for his arrival.
Dainyl didn’t care for either alternative. He also had to ask himself what he
was missing. While he had no doubts that Brekylt and Alcyna were scheming to
grab power in some fashion or another, he had yet to find any concrete evidence
of such a plot—except the attacks.

Was he looking in the
right place? Could Shastylt have sent him out, and set up the attacks?

Dainyl nodded. That
was also possible.

What about the
recorders? In escaping the attacks from them through the Tables, had he
discovered a power about the Tables that they did not wish discovered? Could it
be the strange underground chamber that amplified Talent? Both were possible,
but, if so, that also suggested that the Recorder of Deeds in Dulka was either
allied with the plotters or had deceived them into thinking someone else had
ordered Dainyl’s removal.

From his meeting with
the Duarch of Elcien, he was more than certain that Khelaryt was not behind the
attacks, but Shastylt could be. Zelyert could be, and, of course, Alcyna and
Brekylt.

Dainyl waited until
both bodies had vanished into dust. By then he was breathing normally, but dull
aches suffused his body, reminding him that he was still not fully recovered
from the injuries suffered in Dramur. He also felt very exposed. After what had
just happened, he had few choices but to barge ahead, a tactic counter to the
quiet, behind-the-scenes expertise that had gotten him to where he’d been
selected as Operations Director for the Myrmidons. He smiled wryly. Now ...
remaining behind the scenes was more than a little unlikely.

He held the
lightcutter at the ready as he stepped forward and opened the outer door.

The assistant who had
opened the door turned pale as he saw Dainyl. “Submarshal? Sir?”

“Apparently, I
intruded upon an argument of some sort. Majer Faerylt was attacking the
regional alector with both his sidearm and Talent. I wasn’t able to stop the
majer except by killing him, and he had already murdered the regional alector.”
Dainyl really didn’t care if the assistant knew the truth. His cool voice
became harder and colder. “That is exactly what you will report to High Alector
Brekylt, as well as to the High Alector of Justice. Is that absolutely clear?”