Cadmians Choice (49 page)

On Duadi morning,
after concluding a less than satisfactory meeting with Colonel Dhenyr about the
use of operations reports as a means to forecast maintenance requirements,
Dainyl had just settled back into his chair for a moment of recovery when the
duty messenger appeared in his study door.

“Submarshal... this
arrived by sandox coach.” The duty messenger handed an envelope to Dainyl.

He took it. On the
outside was written: Submarshal of Myrmidons Dainyl, Myrmidon Headquarters,
Elcien.

The handwriting
looked familiar, yet he did not recognize it. Abruptly, he looked up. “Thank
you.”

“Yes, sir.” The
messenger closed the study door on the way out, although Dainyl had not
requested it.

He opened the envelope,
took out the sheets inside, and began to read. He read only a few lines before
realizing that the report was not only from a Cadmian Battalion commander, but
from Majer Mykel. He read quickly through the short report, frowning as he did
When he finished, he went back to the key section, reading it more carefully:

On Tridi...

Almost a week ago,
Dainyl thought. But the majer has no faster way to send reports from Hyalt, not
that he would dare trust. He continued.

... Fifteenth Company
undertook a routine patrol of the roads to the west and northwest of Hyalt
after a local factor reported unusual activities and the disappearance of a
relative from a stead in the area. Because of the local concerns, I accompanied
Undercaptain Fabrytal and Fifteenth Company. We verified that two holders had
vanished from their stead. Unusual burn marks appeared on the ground around the
stead and upon several buildings. While the locals had vanished, the stead had
not been robbed, although some livestock had escaped.

Fifteenth Company
made a thorough patrol of the area, but did not find any sign of the missing
holder and his wife. In the course of the patrol, while conducting
reconnaissance, I observed what appeared to be a squad of troopers. They wore
uniforms of brilliant silver and black and were practicing with unfamiliar
weapons. Because of the distance, it was not possible to discern the features
of the troopers. The weapons they employed in their practice appeared to be
similar to the skylances used by Myrmidons, but there were no pteridons in
evidence, and the weapons were mounted on tripods on small wagons.

These matters may
already be known to the Marshal of Myrmidons, and if it is, I apologize for
including these details ...

Dainyl read it again.
Why had the majer sent it to him, rather than the marshal directly? Because he
knew Dainyl would read it, and he was worried about the time it would take for
Colonel Herolt to forward it. That was the obvious answer, but Dainyl had the
feeling that there was far more there. Majer Mykel had to have known that the “troopers”
were alectors, and the speed of the report suggested strongly he also knew they
were not supposed to be near Hyalt—and that meant the majer could become an
even bigger problem.

Dainyl shook his
head. Once more, the majer could wait... would have to wait, because Brekylt
was a far greater danger. Not only was he building a force, but that force was
using weapons forbidden by the duarches. And ... once again, Lystrana had been
right.

Report in hand, he
walked down the corridor to the marshal’s study.

“Now what?” asked
Shastylt, even before Dainyl had taken more than two steps into his study. “You
have that look, the one that tells me I’m not going to like what you’re about
to tell me. What is it?”

“Brekylt is training
troops, probably alectors, in the use of lifeforce weapons at Hyalt.” Dainyl
left it at that.

“Precisely how did
you discover that?”

“A report from the
Cadmians.” Dainyl held it up. “The majer didn’t claim that. He was very
cautious. He only noted that troopers in shimmering black and silver uniforms
were practicing with weapons on tripods that worked like skylances, and he
apologized for reporting it if it were something of which you were aware. He
also noted that two holders vanished, and strange black marks had burned parts
of their holding, but nothing had been taken.”

Shastylt’s jaw
tightened. His left eye twitched, something Dainyl had seen but once or twice
in years.

“Sir,” Dainyl offered
deferentially, “it may also be that Rhelyn can employ those weapons in places
or at times where skylances cannot be used.”

“You’ll have to see
that he doesn’t.”

“I’ll will do my
best.”

Shastylt paused. “I’ve
ordered the weapons artisans at Faitel to develop something for use against the
ancients. It was designed to be used where pteridons cannot fly. It won’t be
ready for some months, but...”

Dainyl wasn’t quite
certain how to read the marshal’s words. Were they a veiled suggestion not to
be too rash in dealing with Rhelyn, or a veiled threat that the device could be
used in place of Dainyl if he failed to be effective?

“If I might read that
report...”

Dainyl extended it.

The marshal read
through it—quickly—and handed it back. “It’s written as a copy. The original
probably went to Herolt. Worse luck, but we can’t blame the majer for that. You
make two copies of that personally, and give them to me. Keep the original copy
locked away.”

“Yes, sir.” Dainyl
had no doubts that there were at least two more copies—the one that had gone to
the colonel and the one for the majer’s personal files.

“Forbidden lifeforce
weapons, Brekylt’s colors, and where steers can observe. That is provocation
enough.” Shastylt smiled coldly. “Submarshal, you have my leave to implement
your plan for Hyalt immediately. I will, of course, forward copies of the
report to Zelyert and Khelaryt.”

The use of the Duarch’s
name without a title was another indication that Shastylt was angry, not just
concerned.

“There is one other
thing you should consider, sir.”

Shastylt raised his
jet black eyebrows.

“The majer sent that
copy of the report directly to me.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, sir. As you
noted, it was a copy of the report to his colonel. I would judge that he felt
we needed to know faster than the normal reporting channels.”

“Or that he doesn’t
trust his colonel.” Shastylt frowned. “Why to you?”

“He was one of the
company commanders in Dramur. He knows he is going outside channels. I suspect
that he wanted a better chance for the report to be read quickly.”

“Is he the one that
was nearly killed by the battalion commander for trying to carry out his
assigned tasks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That makes it even
worse. If he’s worried enough ...”

“That’s why I thought
you should know.”

“Can you leave as
soon as you make those copies?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll stop
by my house for my gear, if that’s satisfactory.”

“Of course.”

Dainyl inclined his
head, then turned and departed.

Once back in his
study, Dainyl began to copy the report immediately. Thankfully, it was short.
He made three copies, despite the extra time it cost him, and then handed two
of them to the marshal before he took the duty coach home and had it wait for
him.

Lystrana was not
home, but he left a note on the bed for her, saying very little except that he
was on an urgent mission and didn’t know when he would be back. Knowing his
wife, he had the feeling she might understand where he was headed, and possibly
why, but those were not matters he wished to place in writing to anyone. He
took one of the spare sidearm holsters, and added it and the weapon to his belt.

The third sidearm
went in the small kit bag he packed.

For a long moment, he
stood in the bedchamber. He could smell the faint and lingering fragrance of
Lystrana, and he recalled what she had said in the Duarch’s gardens ... about
Acorus being a wonderful world, if people just wouldn’t ruin it. Would what he
was about to begin preserve the goodness, or was it a mere reaction that would
lead to the same ruinous end?

Finally, he picked up
the bag and his flying jacket, and headed back out to the waiting coach. While
it was too warm to wear the jacket in Elcien, he had no doubts that he would
need it for at least the first part of the flight from Dereka to Hyalt.

Zelyert was not in
the Hall of Justice, and the duty assistant barely looked at Dainyl as he walked
past her and into the Table chamber. Chastyl remained out of sight, although
Dainyl sensed another presence somewhere nearby. Since the recorder was clearly
avoiding him, Dainyl donned the flying jacket, then stepped up onto the Table,
and concentrated on the darkness beneath. He dropped into the darkness ...

. .. a purpled
blackness than seemed neither so dark as it once had, although it was certainly
not any less chill. He focused on the crimson-gold locator that both
represented—and was—Dereka.

Around him in the
darkness that was the translation tube, he not only sensed his destination
nearing him, but also that many others had used the tube lately, and all with a
deeper purple tinge. Were those remnants an indicator of stepped-up long
translations from Ifyrn? Or of wild translations? Both?

Behind and beyond the
darkness, he was once more aware of a deeper black, and of traces of greenish
gold. Why were the ancients more active? Because of the greater number of long
translations? Or because of whatever Brekylt and Samist were implementing in
Hyalt?

Before he could
speculate further, a faint shower of crimson-gold flew away from him, and. ..

... he was standing
on the Table in Dereka. Barely the slightest trace of foggy mist wafted away
from him as he stepped down onto the stone floor.

“That was a very
smooth translation, Submarshal. Only the slightest hint of the cold fog.”
Recorder Jonyst was waiting in the doorway at the foot of the staircase to the
upper level library.

“Good afternoon,
Jonyst.”

“Good afternoon,
Submarshal. I’d hoped I wouldn’t be seeing you this soon again.”

Dainyl raised his
eyebrows as he carried his kit toward the recorder.

“Where you travel,
trouble always has followed.”

“Mere coincidence.”
Dainyl laughed, if slightly uneasily.

“Coincidence implies
a randomness I have not seen around you.”

“What trouble do you
foresee this time?”

“If I knew that,
Submarshal, I might not be so worried.” Jonyst offered an ironic smile. “Most
likely, I’d be more worried.” His eyes dropped to Dainyl’s belt, clearly taking
in the two sidearm holsters.

“Is Yadaryst up to
something?”

“The honorable
regional alector left for Ludar this morning. He has not yet returned, but I
expect he will be back shortly. He seldom remains overnight in Ludar.”

“He doesn’t trust his
cousin?”

“Would you?” Jonyst’s
voice dripped irony.

Dainyl shrugged. The
gesture seemed safer. “What else should I know?”

“Little has happened
in Dereka since you were last here—except for the collapse of a section of the
aqueduct. The city was without water for two days. A stone support in the
mountains collapsed. How eternastone could collapse was not made clear to me,
but it happened.”

The ancients? Or one
of Brekylt’s weapons? As much as anything made sense, the ancients testing the
alectors seemed more likely to Dainyl. Certainly, without water, Dereka would
be uninhabitable for long with its current population.

“Might I ask why you
are here?”

‘To look in on young
Captain Fhentyl. As I can, I do try to keep in touch with those company commanders
who might need my presence.”

‘The captain needs it
less than many, from what I’ve heard.”

“He may need little
supervision, indeed,” replied Dainyl, “but submarshals need to feel that their
presence is salutatory.”

Jonyst laughed. “Guersa
is down below. I’m certain she’ll be pleased to take you wherever you need to
go.”

“Thank you.”

The recorder only
accompanied Dainyl so far as the upper level library, but Dainyl could feel
Jonyst’s eyes and Talent following him.

Guersa waited with
the coach in the covered space just beyond the lower door. She was removing a
fodder bag from one of the horses as he stepped out of the archway.

“Submarshal, sir!”
The driver smiled warmly and quickly stowed the bag in the space under the
driver’s, bench. “Do you need help with your gear?”

“No, thank you,
Guersa.” Dainyl had to wonder at her warmth. Landers were usually reserved
around alectors. Was that because she had worked closely with Jonyst? The young
blonde certainly had no Talent, except for the ability to put people at ease,
an ability Dainyl did not have instinctively and often had wished he had. “To
the Myrmidons.” He paused. “How have things been for you?”

Although Guersa still
smiled, Dainyl could sense that his pleasantry had surprised her.

“Except for the time
two weeks back when we didn’t have water, it’s been a good spring and summer,
sir.”

“Anything happen out
of the ordinary?”

“Not having water
wasn’t ordinary, but it didn’t take that long for the engineers to get matters
fixed. That could be because there were a lot of them.”

A lot of engineers?
In Dereka? Dainyl didn’t like that. “It’s good that they could fix it quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

He climbed into the
coach and set his kit on the seat across from him, closing the coach door. The
small windows were down.

As Guersa turned the
coach southward on the main boulevard, Dainyl looked out at the city. The sun
hung barely above the peaks of the Upper Spine Mountains,” to the west, bearing
just a trace of gold against the silver-green sky. Asterta was at its zenith,
but Selena had not yet risen.