Legacies (42 page)

The triple-crystal light-torches focused on the workbench and the silver brackets and crystalline components laid out upon its immaculate and smooth-finished lorken surface. The brown-clad engineer concentrated on fusing two silver clips that would eventually join two angular crystals.

Outside light filled the room as the door at the east end of the workroom opened.

The Matrial followed the light into the workroom, leaving the door open, and walked toward the engineer and the workbench.

Hyalas turned and waited, his face composed.

“I trust you are working on rebuilding the weapon, engineer.”

“That comes first, Matrial, as I promised. There are times when I can do little, while the crystals are growing, and then I continue to search for other possible weapons.”

The Matrial's dark eyes fixed on the engineer. “You said it would take less time, engineer.”

“I did, honored Matrial. I said it would take less than two years. It has been a year. Growing the crystals cannot be hurried. Nor can refining—”

“How long?”

“The crystals will not be ready until early harvest, late summer at best.”

“That is too long. Have you no other devices that will help in warfare?”

“Talent-wizardry is not like smithing, honored Matrial, where a blade or a spear can be hammered out in days. It can do more, but the preparation and the materials take far longer. Nothing you or I can do will change that.” Hyalas paused, then added quickly, before the Matrial could speak. “That was one of the reasons why the ancients never recovered from the Cataclysm.”

“Oh?” A note of curiosity entered the woman's hard voice.

“The power of the Duarchy rested on devices and creatures built or controlled by Talent. For a time, Talent did not work, or perhaps the Talent they used changed to what we now know. Exactly what happened is unclear. What is not unclear is that much of what they had devised no longer worked as it had, nor as powerfully, and they could not adapt and change quickly.”

“I doubt that the destruction of the two capitals rested on Talent, Hyalas.”

“There was a great concentration of Talent in Ludar and Elcien, honored Matrial. How that Talent was used or contained changed in some fashion. That we do know, because for generations nothing grew near those sites, and any who ventured too close or remained too long wasted away.”

“That is interesting…but it does not address our current needs.”

“That I know, Matrial, and I am looking for other devices that may prove useful.”

“Please do.”

Hyalas could not resist stiffening at the chill in the Matrial's voice. “I have done so, and I will continue, as always, Matrial.”

The Matrial did not reply, but turned and left the workroom.

Only after one of the Matrial's personal guards, in the purple and forest green uniforms of those pledged directly to her, closed the workroom door did Hyalas take a deep breath.

He glanced down at the components on the bench. “Fools…all of them…”

After a moment, he spoke the ancient words…some of them.

He offered a lopsided smile to the emptiness as he rephrased the last line he had quoted. “…and
who
will decide what is yet to be?”

There was no answer to the words, but the engineer needed none.

In the dim light just after dawn, Tymal glanced at the assembled squad leaders of the first five squads of Fortieth Company as they gathered in the open space of the squad leaders' barracks wing. Alucius was the youngest squad leader, even of the junior squad leaders, with all of three days in his new position, and he listened intently, not only to what Tymal said, but how he said it.

“Second and third squads—you'll be escorting Undercaptain Gerayn out to meet the traders from Southgate. They'll be at the trade way station. We didn't get advance word about them. They're probably trying to get back or make a last run before we get into full-scale fighting. The undercaptain asked for your squads to be ready at the third glass of the morning. Yular…your squad will mount guard duty on the tariff chest. Alucius, second squad will provide the personal guard for the undercaptain. You'll have to act almost as her head bodyguard. Pick two of your biggest and meanest-looking troopers to stand with you and behind her as she's inspecting the goods and collecting the tariffs.”

Yular nodded. Following his example, so did Alucius.

“We'll all be moving out a week from Decdi. The captain has been ordered to overlap patrols even more. First and fourth squads…after morning muster, your men can have the day off. Remind them to be back well before sunset. Fifth squad—Gholar—have your troopers form up after second and third squads leave this morning. I'd like to see them in maneuver practice.”

“Yes, sir,” Gholar replied.

Alucius wanted to nod sympathetically. He'd spent most of the previous day working with Tymal and second squad. For Alucius, being squad leader had been more draining than being a trooper.

“Any questions?” Tymal added quickly, “Except about the Lanachronans. I don't know anything new. I don't know why we're stepping up patrols, and the captain hasn't said anything, and there's no word from Hieron.”

“Sounds like there'll be more attacks,” suggested Lokyl, the first squad leader.

“That may be, but just tell your men the facts, not what you think.” Tymal glanced around. “That's all.”

Before Alucius could leave, Tymal drew him aside. “Undercaptain Gerayn is a tariff officer. She's not trained as a troop commander. You don't have to take her orders, if there's trouble.”

“But…if I don't, I'd better have a very good reason?”

Tymal smiled. “You understand. I doubt anything will happen, but you should know.”

Alucius had to hurry to get through breakfast and to the muster area in the courtyard before his new squad. Even so, Beral was waiting as Alucius strode up.

Alucius stood back and waited until the others arrived. Then he stepped forward. “Second squad. Two things. First, the patrol schedules have been moved up, and we'll be riding out a week from Decdi. Second, we'll be doing guard and escort duty for a tariff collection today. You've got half a glass to be mounted and ready in the courtyard. That's all. Dismissed to get ready to ride.”

Alucius headed back to the squad leaders' wing to get his own gear.

A half glass before the third glass, Undercaptain Gerayn appeared in the courtyard, riding a gray mare. She was a short and round-faced woman with wispy brown hair that her officers' hat barely kept in place. The sole difference in her uniform from that of other officers was the single silver stripe just above the each cuff of her tunic sleeves.

With his Talent, Alucius could easily sense streaks of both green and a tinge of purple shooting through the blackness of her being. He resolved to be very careful, since the undercaptain showed far greater Talent than anyone he had seen in Madrien since leaving Hieron.

Alucius rode forward and reined up. “Undercaptain, second squad stands ready.”

“Thank you, squad leader.”

Yular rode up within moments and reported as well.

“Since we're ready,” the undercaptain said, “we might as well head out. We'll be riding southwest to the trade way station on the west side of Zalt. You're new, Alucius. You'll ride with me, and I'll tell you what you need to know.”

“Yes, sir.” Alucius hadn't heard of the way station before that morning, but he was certain there was much he would learn in the days and weeks ahead. “Second squad, forward!”

“Third squad, forward!”

Gerayn did not speak until the column was on the high road, headed southwest. “All you really have to do, squad leader, is look ready to kill the head trader if he does anything wrong…and be in a position to do it.”

“Rifle or blade, sir?”

“You have to use a blade. The two guards with you should bear rifles. Tymal said you're a class-one blade and rifleman. Is that correct?” asked the undercaptain.

“Yes, sir.”

“You're a fairly big man, but I've seen larger. Are you especially quick?”

“Sir…someone else would know that better than I. I just do the tasks as well as possible.”

“You're quick enough.” Gerayn laughed.

Second squad rode southwest, and Alucius studied the road. It was empty of travelers and wagons, not that there were ever more than a handful. As they passed the south edge of Zalt, Alucius thought the town was quieter than usual, although it was always quiet in the morning.

The trade way station was separated from the town by a good vingt of open fields, fields now showing perhaps a span of green growth. The trader was clearly ready for the tariff officer, because he stood by a small table under the slanted front overhang of the square stone building that was the trade way station. Beside him were two bearded men in sea-green tunics, with blades in curved and gilded scabbards.

“Do you want a show of force, sir?” asked Alucius.

“That might be fun…but we'll dispense with it. That's Burlyt, and he'd protest for almost a glass about how I should trust him after all these years. I don't trust him, and he knows it, and there's little sense in giving him an opportunity to protest. He is close to both the Dramuran traders and Seltyr Benjir.”

“Yes, sir.” Alucius had no clear idea of what the two references meant, except that the undercaptain thought they were important, and he concentrated on remembering them before he turned in the saddle. “Second squad, rifles ready in holders! Keval and Armon—you two will act as the undercaptain's guards. You'll dismount with me. Bring your rifles. The rest of you…draw up on the south side, three abreast, two deep.”

Only when the troopers were in position did Gerayn dismount and approach the older and bearded trader, Alucius beside her, and Armon and Keval directly behind her, both with rifles at the ready.

The swarthy trader wore a white shirt with a sea-green vest, trimmed in gold, and flowing white trousers above dusty white boots. Alucius managed not to change the intent expression on his face, as almost in passing, his Talent revealed that the bodyguard on the left was a Lanachronan trooper or officer. Did the trader know? Would Gerayn find out?

“Again we meet, Trader Burlyt,” Gerayn offered.

“The most lovely and wise tariff officer…you are even more beautiful than ever, like the sunset on a calm sea, and cool water in the heat of summer…”

“And you are an even more gracious liar than ever,” returned the undercaptain with a warm smile. “Shall we inspect your goods?”

“They are assembled in the courtyard within.”

Alucius gestured for Armon to go through the archway first, although he sensed no one beyond in the narrow shadows, nor any excessive tenseness in the trader and his two bodyguards. The trader and his guards followed, then Keval and the undercaptain. Alucius came last.

An array of goods was laid out, each set on the stone pavement before the wagon from which it had come. There were bolts of southern cotton, dyed in swirls of color, and southern silk, as soft as nightsilk, and far brighter, but not so strong. There were jugs of perfumed oils, and smaller jars of bright pigments, and larger jars of cardamom and saffron, and the heavy cloves that came only from Dramur. There were ingots of tin, and two jars of a finely ground powder that Alucius had never seen, at which Gerayn nodded knowingly. And rows of amphorae, all filled with various liquids. At the end, guarded by two other men, was a strongbox.

Burlyt produced a shining brass key and unlocked the iron-bound chest. On an inset shelf, covered by a dark blue velvet pad that Burlyt lifted, were golden rings, amulets, and unset gem stones. Gerayn surveyed the items, then nodded. Burlyt replaced the pad and lifted the shelf. In the bottom of the chest lay long golden chains, seemingly dozens of them.

Alucius could sense the disgust that radiated from the tariff officer as she studied the chains.

“You may lock the chest.”

“You see,” said the trader, “just trade goods, and only trade goods.”

“For men,” Gerayn said mildly. “Few women would buy such.”

“Ah…that is not so. The women of Tempre, they buy much.”

“Do they buy much for themselves, or to please the men who own them?” Gerayn's tone was bantering.

Alucius listened. So did the Lanachronan disguised as a guard.

“We all seek to please someone, do we not, even since the days of the Duarchy? Always that has been the way of the world.”

Gerayn nodded, producing several sheets of paper with printing upon them. “That is so, and the Duarchy fell, did it not?”

“The stars and the moons are in the sky, are they not, honored tariff officer?”

“They do not fall, but the Duarchy did.”

A puzzled expression crossed the trader's face. “That is true.”

“Why did the Duarchy fall? Might it be because it was controlled and ruled by men? Women were treated like brood mares—just as they are today in Lanachrona and Lustrea—or Dramur. If a woman there has children, she'd better have sons or risk being discarded…”

“I would not discard any of my wives, gracious undercaptain,” suggested Burlyt, humor tingeing his voice as he clearly baited the tariff officer.

Alucius refrained from showing emotion, especially since he did not understand what was being played out. Gerayn was bluntly suggesting the need for better treatment of women, but why to a trader? And if the Matrites were so opposed to Lanachrona and Lustrea, why had they attacked the Iron Valleys, where women were treated so much better? Or were they? Certainly, his great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother had been herders. Why didn't his mother have the Talent? Alucius had to admit that he didn't know. And Wendra…she had pointed out to him how everything was being arranged for Alucius, not for her, and that a cousin had been married off to a butcher she didn't even know.

“No…” laughed Gerayn, “for they might have you murdered, you charming scoundrel.”

“Gracious tariff officer…” the trader protested.

“And what have men done since the Cataclysm?” asked Gerayn. “What was the Legacy the Duarchy left them? Generation after generation, they've fought over scraps of the Duarchy. When the Matrial first appeared, and that was less than four generations ago, Hieron was a backwater river town subsisting on the crumbs left by Lanachronan traders…”

Less than four generations? What sort of power had the Matrial—or Matrials, for Alucius still had strong doubts about an unaging Matrial—discovered that had forged such a strong land in so short a time?

“Today, Madrien is the strongest land east of the Spine of Corus. The Matrial has done more in three generations than have the men of Corus in more than a thousand years…Come…tell me how men are superior, Trader Burlyt.”

“I am but a trader, arms commander…but if you have no children, you will have no future.” Burlyt laughed genially, if uneasily.

“We have children. I have three. We have them when we wish them, and not at the pleasure of any man. That is why all women are trained in arms.”

“Then it is at your pleasure, and for that I must salute you.”

“I take your salute, trader, and my pleasure.” Gerayn grinned openly.

Burlyt shook his head. “There are no women such as you in Southgate.”

“You and Seltyr Benjir would hope not.” Gerayn took the markstick and ran down the list, jotting figures, and then adding them.

Burlyt waited. Alucius studied the trader, his guards, and, with his Talent-sense, the others who waited beyond the second archway.

Gerayn looked up. “For what you are transporting, eighty-one golds.”

“Eighty-one? I will not get two hundred for all that I have,” protested the trader. “Not one hundred and fifty on a bad week.”

“Oh? You plan on getting almost fifteen hundred.”

Burlyt shrugged helplessly. “Alas…you know me too well.” He rang a small bell that appeared in his hand.

Alucius realized that Burlyt had staged the show of protest, as, in a different way, had Gerayn. Why?

Was each trying to let the Lanachronan know something? Or was there more there?

A thin youth appeared with a large leather pouch, which he tendered to Burlyt. The trader untied the thongs and emptied the golds onto the flat top of the strong box, where he counted out eighty one, which he then openly replaced in the pouch and handed to the tariff officer.

Gerayn laid two lists on the top of the strong box where the coins had been. She signed both with her markstick, and then handed it to Burlyt, who also signed both below her signature. Then she reclaimed one of the lists, rolled it, and slipped it into the pouch. She inclined her head but slightly to the trader. “Thank you, trader.”

“My thanks to you, tariff officer. You are most prompt and quick.” Burlyt offered a deeper bow, then reclaimed the other signed list.

Gerayn gestured, and Alucius nodded to Armon, who led the way through the archway and out under the overhang and to where the squads and mounts waited. Burlyt did not follow them.

Alucius was the last to mount. “Second squad, forward!”