Cadmians Choice (77 page)

“Rhelyn was
responsible for the failure of his Table. That I knew. One of the reasons it
took me longer to return was that the rebel alectors in Tempre destroyed a
section of the Table when they were attempting to flee the Myrmidons and
Cadmians.”

“You dispatched
Cadmians against alectors?”

“No, sir. While I was
dealing with Hyalt, I discovered that Fahylt had thrown in with Rhelyn. I split
my forces and went to Tempre, along with half the Cadmians. Fahylt had created
an Alector’s Guard with landers and indigens. He also had a force of alectors,
although I did not discover that until later. He even built a stone compound
for the Alector’s Guard. They tried a dawn ambush of the Cadmians....” Dainyl
went on to provide a summary of what had happened after that, omitting all
references to the ancients and concluding with “... and when the rebel alectors
returned, they attacked the Cadmians with contraband lightcutters. I collected
those, and they’re being sent to you under seal from Dereka. The Cadmians
suffered significant losses, but managed to hold their own until the rebels ran
out of power for their weapons. The Cadmians killed some, and some were killed
by whatever they did to the Table.”

“So ... Rhelyn had
more than two hundred alectors, and Fahylt had more than thirty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zelyert shook his
head. “You are resourceful, Dainyl. Now that you are marshal, what do you have
in mind?”

“I wasn’t aware that
I was, sir.”

“Who else would I
appoint? You wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice, but you’ve proved to be too
tenacious for anyone to suggest anyone else. You’re a shade too honorable,
Dainyl, and stronger than most would prefer.” Zelyert reached back and picked
up something from the desk. “You might as well put these on. They’re marshal’s
stars. The Myrmidons cannot be without a commander, not for a moment.”

“You had those ready.”

“I suspected. I also
felt that Shastylt would not be able to bear the thought that you could resolve
problems he didn’t want resolved.”

“I know. He picked me
because he was looking for someone to whom few would object and who could not
possibly block his plans.”

Zelyert laughed. It
was not a pleasant sound, cheerful and hearty as it seemed. “And what do you
think of me?”

Dainyl had already
thought that inquiry might be coming. “You always knew that the Master Scepter
would not come here. So did Khelaryt and Samist. The question became how to
deal with the situation. Samist and Brekylt wanted to encourage long
translations from Ifryn to certain alectors who would support them in building
their power. Translated alectors draw more lifeforce than those born here. You
must know that. So you’re behind whatever measures I undertook that reduced
those numbers, but it’s not something that you or Khelaryt can acknowledge.”
Dainyl cleared his throat, not because it was dry, but because he was missing
something and needed a moment to think. He had it! “You let Alcyna and Brekylt
build those forces because, that way, you knew where all those alectors were,
and ...” Dainyl let the words trail off, watching the High Alector.

“You didn’t answer
the question, I don’t believe.”

“You have grave
doubts that a peaceful or successful transition of the Master Scepter to Efra
will be possible, and you realized that a secondary status for Acorus would
create further unrest, plotting, and instability, and you will do whatever is
necessary to minimize the chaos. Absolutely whatever,” Dainyl added.

“Every transition of
the Master Scepter has been brutal and bloody. How could it not be? Half of the
alectors on Ifryn don’t have enough Talent to survive a long translation, and
most of those who do won’t be terribly useful and will be a drain on whatever
world where they arrive. No one wants to leave the comforts of Ifryn until it
becomes obvious the world is guttering out. Then everyone who sees it wants to
leave, and the Myrmidons become guards of the Tables and executioners of those
who try to invade them, and that use of skylances and pteridons draws down
lifeforce even more quickly, hastening the end.” Zelyert’s lips curled. “Acorus
is poor and rough, and cold and miserable, and we have made certain everyone
knows that. Did you know that on Efra there are three Myrmidons stationed at
every Table, and anyone translating from Ifryn who cannot demonstrate a skill
or a pass from the Archon or a High Alector is killed on the spot? Last year
three hundred were killed. This year the number will be double that.”

“Acorus has received
what... five hundred over the past three or four years?” Dainyl was fishing,
but he wanted to know.

“Six hundred. You
have kindly removed close to half of them. The more arrogant and aggressive
ones. It was planned that way. More important, you removed the lightcutters. In
that, Samist and Brekylt went too far.”

“And most of the
others who fled to Acorus are in Dulka.”

“About half. We may
need them. I would appreciate your not reducing Dulka to rubble without first
consulting me.”

“I will certainly do
so.” That was an easy enough promise to make. Dainyl could certainly consult.

“Now that you have
everything figured out, Marshal Dainyl, what do you plan?”

“In a day or so, how
about a translation to Alustre to offer Alcyna the position of Submarshal in
Elcien, and another courtesy call upon the eastern regional alector?”

“That is rather...
chancy, is it not?”

“I think not. I’ve
undertaken no great actions east of the Spine.” Dainyl smiled. “I do plan to
relocate Seventh Company to Tempre, though. Also, I’d rather have Alcyna in the
west.”

“Those are good
political moves, but you’re still a Myrmidon field commander at heart, Dainyl.”

“Not totally. I haven’t
seen my wife in weeks, and I’m headed home to see her.”

“Give her my best.”

“She deserves that,
and more.”

Zelyert stiffened,
momentarily, then laughed. “I’m surprised Shastylt didn’t see that.”

Dainyl knew exactly
what the High Alector meant. “He didn’t want to. The Duarches would be far
better served by some alectresses than by many of their male RAs.”

“Such as your wife?”

“She’s certainly one,
but there are others.”

“You don’t want to
mention their names?”

“There’s little
point, and in these times, it could only endanger them.”

“You have gotten
cynical, Dainyl. Perhaps not cynical enough, but it’s a start. We’ll talk more
after I brief Khelaryt. Say, on Tridi. In the meantime, you can make whatever
changes you need at headquarters.”

“I intend to.” Dainyl
inclined his head, then turned. He held his full shields until he was out of
the Hall of Justice and in the duty coach, headed back to Myrmidon
headquarters. He wished he were headed home, but Lystrana wouldn’t be there,
not until evening, and he had more than a few loose ends to resolve.

Marshal of Myrmidons.
Lystrana would be both pleased and appalled at how matters had turned out, and
his mother would be delighted. He’d let Alyra find out from others. She’d
always valued their reaction more than her son’s.

Who could fill Dhenyr’s
billet? And what of Majer Mykel? Those were just the first of his problems....

By Londi midaftemoon,
Mykel had managed to get himself shaved, bathed, and dressed in a uniform
Fabrytal had sent, except for his outer tunic. He sat in a shaded corner of the
small inner courtyard by himself, watching the finches and the lazulis in the
dwarf pear trees that flanked the small herb garden. The blistered and dying
skin was peeling off his burned arm, and at times, the combination of pain and
itching made him want to claw it. He did not, not when even brushing the area
hurt.

The cushioned rattan
chair was comfortable, and the silent serving girl Ruela kept the mug of ale
filled. In his lap was a geography book that he had found on the bedside table,
presumably placed there by Rachyla, or at her direction. He had read close to
fifty pages, although he had been forced to close his eyes at times to rest. He
had found the section about the ancient aqueducts to Dereka fascinating, as
well as the description of the sheer six-thousand-yard-high cliffs that
bordered the Aerial Plateau on all sides.

He looked up at the
silver-green sky, catching sight of Asterta, washed out by the brilliance of
the sun. The moon of the warrior goddess—yet it reminded him of Rachyla, a
warrior goddess in her own way. He had not seen her all day, except very
briefly when she had stepped into his bedchamber, and noted that Fabrytal had
dispatched some personal items to facilitate his recovery, including a new
Cadmian belt buckle and a replacement sabre. She’d placed them on the side
table and left before he could even ask her to stay.

He started to pick up
the book once more when he glimpsed a figure across the herb garden—Rachyla. He
set the book down and watched as she neared. Today, she wore trousers and a
shirt of a pale tan, with a black vest, trimmed in a deep green that matched
and brought out the intensity of her eyes.

“Majer, you are
recovering.”

“Good food, good
care, and good surroundings.” He smiled. “Would you sit, please, at least for a
moment?”

“For a moment.” She
settled into the chair set in the shade at an angle to the one where Mykel sat.
“Herisha is at the market, now that matters are returning to a less uncertain
state, and Amaryk is at Gheort’s. He is the heir-second to Seltyr Asadyl, and
his sister is said to be quite beautiful.”

“I am perceived as
unsuitable company for a chatelaine, then.”

“Most unsuitable.”
Her voice remained cool, although Mykel still heard musicality within it. “A Cadmian
majer, the son of a master tiler? Totally unsuitable.”

“Even for a
chatelaine who is otherwise unmarriageable?”

“Majer... you
presume.” She started to rise from the chair.

“I apologize. Please
do not go.”

After a moment, her
hands released their hold on the arms of the chair, and she let herself settle
once more.

“I can see that I am
most unsuitable for you in any permanent way,” Mykel said carefully. “I do not
see why that precludes your talking to me.”

“Women may be swayed
by the words of a handsome man, especially one who is as dashing and as
unprincipled as, shall I say, a Cadmian officer.” A faint smile appeared and
vanished. “Many of the young women in Southgate with whom you danced, Majer,
would have wished more than a dance. This was not lost on Elbaryk. I was sent
here because Amaryk requires two chatelaines, because Elbaryk judged you might
be more likely to return to Southgate than come to Tempre, and because he could
do no less and retain his honor.”

“And he would
certainly do no more?”

“Majer.”

“I apologize.” Mykel
had never apologized so often and so quickly. He took refuge in a sip from the
mug of ale. “The geography book you left or had left for me is interesting.” . “How
much have you read?”

“Fifty pages, a
little more. I couldn’t help wondering about the ancient aqueducts in Dereka.
They must be very old. I’d like to see them, I think.”

“Perhaps you will.
They might send you there.”

“I doubt it. The
regiment in Elcien—it’s in Northa, really, but it sounds better to say our
headquarters is in Elcien—we’re deployed where there’s trouble. Then we come
back to headquarters for replacements and retraining, and after that they send
us out again. We might go to Dereka, but they’ve never had any trouble. There
usually isn’t in places where Myrmidons are stationed.”

“With their weapons,
I imagine not. How long do you think the Myrmidon company will remain here?”

“Until the trouble is
over. Have any alectors returned to the administration building?” Mykel felt
isolated and out of touch.

“Some. Amaryk said
that there is an acting regional administrator appointed by the Duarches. Your
Cadmians do not guard the building now.”

“I’m not surprised.”
How much should he say? How much had he said that he didn’t recall? “We ended
up shooting a few of the alectors who rebelled.”

“You are fortunate
they did not turn the pteridons upon you.”

“We had retaken the
building long before they returned, and no one knew what we had done except for
those in the battalion. Since the alectors’ bodies turn to dust soon after they
die, there was no evidence of how they died.”

“Does that not tell
you they are not of this world?”

“It does, and you
were right about that. I should have listened more closely when you suggested
that in Dramur.”

Rachyla laughed,
mirthlessly. “You should be wounded more often, Majer.”

To hear you laugh,
even coolly, it would almost be worth that. “That is a high price to pay for a
compliment from you. Still...”

“You can be so
gallant when you are not killing people.” Her voice was not quite so hard as it
might have been.

“I wouldn’t have
thought you disapproved of my killing alectors.”

“I do not, but they
are not people. They are arrogant beasts.”

“I think, Lady
Rachyla, that arrogance comes with unbridled power. I have seen many who are
not alectors who are arrogant. I have not seen enough alectors to know if any
of them are not arrogant.”

“You reproach me ...
after we have cared for you.”

“I do not believe I
ever said anything about your being arrogant,” Mykel replied.

For a time, Rachyla
was silent. “You did not.”

“Perhaps I should go.
I have intruded upon your hospitality more than I intended. I would not wish to
impose more.”

“Majer. You need at
least one more night of undisturbed sleep. I would not have you leave and
suffer injury because you departed too soon.” Rachyla rose and stood beside the
chair, her long and graceful fingers resting on the rattan of the back. “Besides,
the carriage will not be available until the morning.”