Cadmians Choice (42 page)

“Yes, sir. It seems
like only some shots bring them down. They must only be vulnerable in certain
small places.”

“Something like that,”
Mykel agreed. “We’ve done what we can here. We’ll ride back to Hyalt along the
road that swings westward.” That route would carry them westward enough that a
line of higher rocky hills would separate them from the regional alector’s
compound. The company would also cover some roads not patrolled before and reenter
Hyalt from the southwest. He hoped that they would not encounter more of the
strange creatures, but the more he knew about the terrain, the better.

As he rode, he tried
not to think about the report he would have to write—and where and how to send
it.

Immediately after
morning muster onTridi, Dainyl was headed to the Hall of Justice in the duty
coach. He was less than pleased with having to use the Table so comparatively
soon after the last attempts to trap him. Still, he needed information, and the
only one who could supply it—that he could trust—was Sulerya. Delari was
probably trustworthy, but Sulerya knew more, and for the risk involved, he
might as well go to the more knowledgeable.

If Hyalt had been
designed any other way, Dainyl’s efforts to develop a tactical plan to deal
with Rhelyn would have been far easier, but then, Hyalt’s strengths and
isolation were doubtless why Brekylt had made it the initial staging point in
the west. One possibility was that Patronyl, the recorder in Tempre, was not
fully trusted by Brekylt and the Duarch Samist, since Tempre would have been
far more convenient. Another was that forces could not be concealed as easily
in Tempre, but that Tempre would follow Hyalt if nothing were done to stop the
infiltration.

The coach halted
outside the Hall of Justice, and Dainyl stepped out under the hot and hazy day,
one without a hint of a breeze.

“Do you want me to
wait, sir?”

“No. I don’t know how
long I’ll be.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Dainyl turned and
walked up the wide stone steps and through the columns at the top, crossing the
entry foyer, and then the main audience hall, where petitioners were already
gathering. He made his way to the concealed entry, screened himself, and opened
the hidden doorway to the chambers below. If someone saw him, so much the
better, because he would have vanished in plain sight, and that could only
reinforce the mystique about the powers of alectors.

At the bottom of the
stone-walled staircase, he turned down the corridor toward the Table chamber.

“Cadmian business,
Submarshal?” asked Zelyert, stepping out of his study, not quite blocking
Dainyl’s way.

Dainyl stopped. “Yes,
sir. I should be back before too long.”

The High Alector of
Justice nodded, politely. “You define that rather loosely, Dainyl, but since it’s
clear there’s no duplicity involved, I won’t press. Not too much.” Zelyert
smiled.

“There are some
irregularities involving some Cadmians on deployment, sir, and I need to
clarify exactly what they may be facing.” That was absolutely true, if
incomplete.

“You’d prefer not to
be more explicit?”

“When I’m gathering
information, sir, I hesitate to speculate, because, if I’m wrong, I’ve given
you incorrect information, and I end up looking foolish. I’d be happy to
provide you the details of what I know so far.”

“In a sentence, if
you would.”

“The Cadmians in
Hyalt have reported some strange occurrences. I need to find out more in order
to determine whether we should send back a Myrmidon squad.” If not an entire
company, with a few additional measures, if such are even possible.

“Hyalt?” Zelyert
shook his head. “Best be careful there, Submarshal.”

“I intend to.” But
not quite in the way you think.

The High Alector
stepped back, looking very thoughtful, but said nothing further.

Dainyl would have preferred
not to have mentioned Hyalt at all, but there was no avoiding it. While he
could have held even tighter shields, that would have alerted Zelyert that his
shields were in fact stronger than the High Alector realized and that Dainyl
was hiding something. Dainyl just hoped that his reputation for caution would
cover his unwillingness to be too specific.

Chastyl stood at one
end of the Table chamber as Dainyl entered. “Good morning, Submarshal.”

“Good morning,
Chastyl.” Dainyl gestured toward the Table. “You are not traveling?”

“No. I am just
monitoring the Table. There have been more odd energies, but nothing like what
happened last week.”

Odd energies? Dainyl
liked that not at all. Still, he smiled and stepped onto the Table,
concentrating on the blackness beneath ...

Immediately, he
dropped into the depths beneath the Table, depths that now seemed more like a
blackened purple haze. Simultaneously, he was aware of the purpled confines of
the translation tube and that it rested, or seemed to, upon a wider area of
blackness.

He pushed that
perception away and focused on the orange-yellow of Lysia, linking himself
there.

He thought he sensed
a green flash and a longer purpled presence, but he slipped through the
orange-yellow barrier—more like a curtain of mist than the obstacle it had once
been...

... and found himself
once more in Lysia. There was not even a trace of fog rising from his uniform,
which only carried the faintest chill.

Sulerya stood in the
opening to the hidden chambers, watching him. “I thought it might be you. That
was a quick translation. I doubt if any of the recorders, unless they were
looking closely, even noticed.” She smiled. “What are you here for?”

“I’m sure you know.
To talk to you.”

“Not Sevasya?”

“Not this time.”

“Then, come join me.
Close the door behind you.” She turned and walked up the hidden passage.

Dainyl found the
Talent lock and closed the stone behind him.

Sulerya sat in one of
the three, chairs. Dainyl took the third chair, leaving one between them, but
he turned the chair so that he faced her more directly.

“You look quite
serious, Submarshal.” The faintest hint of a smile lifted the corners of her
narrow mouth, but the incongruous green eyes showed no amusement.

“I am. I’m here for
advice and advisement.”

“From a mere recorder?”

Dainyl snorted. “You
are no mere recorder.” He had his suspicions, but mere was no point in
declaring them. ‘That is not why I’m here.”

‘Then why?”

“Can any Table be
isolated from the others? From outside the particular Table, that is?” asked Dainyl.

“No.” Sulerya
frowned. “Not unless enough Tables were shut down to destroy the entire grid,
but you’d have nothing then, except perhaps a thin direct link to Ifryn. Each
Table was designed to be brought on the grid independently.”

“Then, they can be shut
down.”

“It has happened.
Occasionally, a crystal or something has failed. It’s not really a problem. The
grid will operate with as few as ten Tables, but that risks instability. It
initially operated with something like seven, but the translation volumes were
far less. Supposedly, it could operate with six, perhaps five, but I wouldn’t
want to try to translate under those conditions.”

“How did they
translate in the beginning, then?” “With great difficulty.” Sulerya laughed. “It
would have taken more Talent, and probably the help of recorders at each Table.
I’m only guessing, though.” “Could you teach me how to shut one down?” Dainyl
could sense the recorder tightening within herself. She did not reply.

“You could, then. The
question is whether you can trust me with that knowledge.”

“You are asking a
great deal, and it is knowledge that is not to be trifled with. It is also
supposed to be retained only by the recorders and a few engineers.” Dainyl
waited. “Why do you want it?”

“Because it may be
necessary to prevent a greater evil.”

“That’s a very
convenient reply.” Her tone was dry. “Then I will ask of you what you asked of
me. Until and unless you can verify independently what I am about to tell you,
will you keep the information to yourself?”

“Even if I do not
agree to instruct you?” “Especially if you do not agree to instruct me.”

“I knew you were
trouble when you first appeared here.”

“Then why did you and
your father help me?”

“As many have said
throughout history, the alternative was worse. Besides,” she added with a harsh
but soft chuckle, “you are honorable, and so few are these days. You’re also
good looking, and I don’t see many alectors who are both.” After a moment, she
said, “You were going to tell me why I should help you.”

“We believe that Rhelyn
is building some type of force in Hyalt. We believe it is part of Brekylt’s
plans against Khelaryt.”

“There have been a
number of translations there,” Sulerya affirmed. “Although it is hard to
determine for certain, many appear to be coming from Alustre, and some from
Dulka.”

“The force may well
consist of alectors from Ifryn. We may have to isolate Hyalt, but how can we do
that if they can send equipment and alectors through the Table?”

“Equipment?”

“Components of
road-building equipment configured to act like skylances.”

“You know this?”

“We know that strange
things are happening in Hyalt. We know that significant engineering resources
have been diverted in Alustre and Fordall, and that the engineers involved
suffered fatal mishaps before they could be questioned by the High Alector of
Justice. If we wait to make plans until everything is clear...”

“You’re not planning
something immediate?”

“Not without more
evidence,” Dainyl admitted. “I can’t plan, though, until I know more about
Hyalt and Tables. That’s why I’d like to know how a Table can be turned off.”

“I will teach you on
one condition. That you promise never to reveal the technique or to discuss it
with anyone who does not already know.”

“That’s recorders and
Table engineers?”

“Master Table engineers.”

“I agree. I hope I do
not have to use it.”

She smiled sadly. “That
you, of all Myrmidons, have to ask, is a measure of how desperate times indeed
are.” She stood. “We’ll go back to the Table.”

Dainyl followed
Sulerya, letting her reopen the hidden door. He noted that she added a second
Talent-lock to the outer door.

“It won’t stop the
most Talented—like you—but there’s no one around here that Talented.”

Dainyl opened his
mouth to protest.

“Don’t say a word,
Submarshal. You’re more Talented than most High Alectors.”

“I had very little
Talent, so little that I was barely accepted into the Myrmidons.”

“That’s one of the
secrets about Talent. The truly great Talents develop late. It’s why it’s easy
for those in control to hold it. Those who might challenge them can be
discovered before their abilities are fully mature. You were fortunate to spend
so much time in the Myrmidons, where no one looked. You would have been
discovered years ago if you’d been an assistant.”

Dainyl wondered if
his mother had known that—or if she’d just been disappointed that he had showed
so little Talent early on.

“The Table looks
solid,” Sulerya began. “It is not. The surface is mirrorlike, but it is
composed of thousands and thousands of identical tiny crystals that hold and
store energy. The genius of their design is that they are stable when charged.
They draw their energy from the world’s very lifeforce. That is why there can
never be many...”

Dainyl listened,
intently.

“... the controls are
within the Table itself and, after the Table is first activated, can only be
controlled by Talent...”

“Is there a special
key or code?” asked Dainyl.

“No. The key is the
combination of knowledge and Talent. A recorder also has the advantage of
knowing how to operate the Table.”

“Your father is
effectively a recorder, then.”

“Yes. Now ... follow
me with your Talent, carefully please.”

Dainyl created the
narrowest of Talent-probes to follow the one Sulerya had generated.

“Do you feel the
octagonal crystal there? Don’t touch it, even with Talent.”

“I do.” . “There’s a
brighter octagon, tiny, really, on the underside. If you pulse Talent through
that small octagon, the Table will go into an inert state. It will retain
power, but it cannot operate until a second, and stronger pulse is sent. Remember,
it takes a moment or two before the Table powers down.”

“That’s it?”

“Would you have known
even to look?”

Dainyl laughed. “No.”

“Very few alectors
have the control you have. Fewer still have the power, and without knowledge,
power, and control, nothing would happen.”

“What would happen if
I pulsed a lot of Talent into that octagon?”

Sulerya was silent.

“I take it that means
the crystal would shatter, or something. Is it hard to replace?”

She shrugged,
wearily. “It takes time. The Table has to be bled of residual energy, or it
will explode. The recorder can do it, or a Table engineer, but it would be
several days. Too much energy, and the majority of the crystals would go, and
anyone nearby or trying to translate as well.”

“In short, don’t do
it.”

“It’s a good way for
most alectors to commit suicide.”

Dainyl understood. “What
about using the Table to create Talent-force, either here or in the translation
tubes?”

“I don’t recall that
being a problem for you.”

Dainyl waited.

“Look for the paired
pink octagons. If you focus your Talent through them, they draw on the power of
the tubes themselves. That’s why . . .”

“Using them can upset
the grid?”