Soarers Choice (17 page)

Once
outside the gates, he turned the roan back toward the stone compound.

As
Mykel rode out of the undersized Cadmian compound on the eastern
e.g.
of Dekhron on Septi morning, he reflected on the
previous three days. Proceeding from Tempre to Iron
Ste.
had been anything but pleasant, what with further delays with the barges and
the tugs, the lack of stalls or containment for the mounts, the rough water of
the river, the heavy coal smoke, and the continual drizzle that had soaked
everything.

After
two and a half long days on the river, they had arrived in Dekhron, only to
find that the piers had been washed away, and that the horses had to be walked
down ramps into the water and led through frigid waist-deep water, and in
places around blocks of rose-colored stones that were all that remained of the
river piers.

Uniforms
and mounts were wet and smeared with coal dust, and they were a sorry sight as
they entered the Cadmian compound in Dekhron at midnight on Quinti. It had
taken all of Sexdi to get dried out and reorganized — thankfully with a welcome
sun. Mykel wasn’t so certain that he wouldn’t have preferred to ride the high
roads from Tempre to Dekhron — except that more than eleven days on the road
would have been even harder on the mounts.

On
Septi morning, the battalion was cleaner, fed, and more rested. They rode out
of the compound and followed the eternastone road westward through the center
of Dekhron and then north, through what looked to be the less affluent areas.
For all that Tempre was larger than Dekhron, the river town looked and felt far
older than did Tempre. The larger streets leading off the eternastone main
boulevard had been paved many years before, and now held grooves and chips in
the stone, as well as off-colored replacement stones, and in some places,
packed clay. The side lanes were dirt.

Mykel
noted more than an occasional set of deserted stone walls and vacant lots
filled with rubble between buildings. A large number of dwellings, at least
those bordering the main boulevard that was the high road, were roofed with old
and faded slates or cracked tiles. Early as it was, less than a glass past
dawn, few people were on the streets, but even had it been later, Mykel had the
feeling that there would not have been that many about.

For
the first glass, Sixteenth Company led the Third Battalion, and Rhystan rode
beside Mykel. Neither officer said much until they were several vingts north of
Dekhron and the early sun fell full upon them.

“Good
thing it’s sunny,” observed the captain. “Cold and damp on the river.”

“I’m
glad to be away from Hyalt — and Dekhron,” Mykel said. “If it weren’t for the
mounts, I’d rather not have traveled by barge, though.”

“It’ll
give the men something to talk about, and no one got hurt.”

Mykel
managed a smile. He had no desire to travel by barge again.

“That
Myrmidon captain ... she spent a lot of time looking at you, sir.”

Mykel
had spent more than a little time in Tempre avoiding Lyzetta. “Why do you think
she was?”

“She’s
worried about you. She kept watching you the way my little brother used to look
at snakes. Da said that he couldn’t try to kill them, and to keep away. Williet
would have tried anyway, if he hadn’t been afraid of the whipping more than the
snakes. That Captain Lyzetta had that same look.”

“Who’d
whip a Myrmidon captain?” Mykel knew, but he wanted Rhystan’s reaction. “And
why?”

“Marshal
Dainyl, Majer. To me, that says that what we faced in Dramur and Hyalt will
seem easy compared to what’s up the road in Iron Stem.”

“That
could be. Or it could be that Hersiod was influenced by the former marshal, the
way Vaclyn was, and now the new marshal needs us to clean up the mess.”

“That’s
not much better, sir.”

“I
know.” Mykel chuckled. “But we can always hope.” Just so long as we don’t get
deluded by that hope.

Dainyl
had already been restless before Zernylta brought in the report from Captain
Lyzetta. It was already Septi — a week after Alcyna had arrived — and he’d
heard nothing about any of the problems he’d faced then being resolved... or
even showing signs of improvement. About the. only positive event had been the
return of the River Vedra to near-normal flows.

After
Zernylta handed him the report and left, Dainyl slowly began to read what the
junior captain had written.

...
repairs to the Table in Tempre have been completed, and the Table engineers
report that the Table is fully functional ... The Table in Hyalt was easier to
repair, according to the engineers. It will take several weeks’ more work
before the cliff-tunneled section is again fully habitable. The engineers have
recommended to their High Alector that the freestanding structure not be
rebuilt at this time, unless the High Alector of Justice can fund the
rebuilding....

In
short, thought Dainyl, the Myrmidons were being blamed for the destruction, as
if there had been any other way to defeat Rhelyn’s forces. Whether Zelyert knew
or not, Dainyl needed to tell the High Alector before he was summoned before
the Duarches to explain.

Dainyl
forced himself to finish reading the rest of what Lyzetta had written.

The
Cadmian Third Battalion arrived safely in Dekhron and is proceeding to Iron
Stem. There was some delay because of the river flooding and the slowness in
unloading mounts in Dekhron without piers ... Tempre remains with limited
alector supervision ...

That
meant Duarch Samist had not named a regional alector to replace Fahylt, or that
if he had, it had been recent enough that no one knew.

Dainyl
folded the report and tucked it into his uniform tunic, then stood and hurried
out of his study and down the corridor. Alcyna was out, supposedly dealing with
Alseryl’s assistants over the matter of younger sandox drivers being
transferred as Myrmidon trainees, as well as discovering why the South Pass
bridge could riot be repaired more quickly.

Captain
Zernylta was the headquarters duty officer — that was one responsibility that
continued over from her previous position as squad leader. Saddling the other
junior officers with extra watches would not have been a good idea.

“Zernylta,
is the duty coach back?”

“Yes,
sir. Sharua was about to pick up the submarshal at the Palace.”

“She
can take me to the Hall of Justice, and then pick up the submarshal and swing
back to the Hall and wait for me. I need to see the Highest.” If Zelyert
weren’t there, Dainyl would leave word with one of his assistants, but he
needed to make the effort.

On
the coach ride to the Hall, he couldn’t help but worry that he wasn’t making
much progress as marshal. That feeling continued, even as he made his way into
the Hall and down to the lower levels, where he rapped on the closed door.
“Come in, Dainyl.”

Dainyl
stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“You’re
obviously seeking me out, Marshal, and you look less than pleased. What is it
that you feel I should know? Before you do, however, thank you for the
information about the piers in Dekhron. It was useful to be able to point out
to Ruvryn that some problems are not caused by Cadmians and Myrmidons.”

“You
sound as if you may already know what I wanted to tell you. The tables in Hyalt
and Tempre are both functioning again, but it took more than two weeks’ support
by most of Seventh Company. That meant a great amount of lifeforce usage, and
High Alector Ruvryn will attempt, if he has not already, to have Justice pay
for rebuilding the freestanding structure destroyed in the conflict with the
rebels in Hyalt.”

“He
has not said anything yet.” Zelyert looked directly at Dainyl. “Why was
destroying the structure necessary?”

“As
I indicated when I first returned from Hyalt, the question was how many
Myrmidons would be killed by the methods we chose. I chose the method that
would produce the fewest Myrmidon casualties. Had I chosen a method that spared
the structure, Fifth Company would possibly be at as little as half-strength. I
suspect that was in fact what Brekylt had in mind, and that we would use First
Company. We have barely been able to replace the seven Myrmidons lost from
Seventh and Fifth Companies. It is unlikely that we could replace any
significant number more for at least several months. The High Alector of
Transport is less than pleased at our request for more trainees. The submarshal
has been spending much of her time on placating Transport and seeking more
trainees.”

“Myrmidons
are not supposed to be killed by rebels.” Zelyert’s tone was mocking. “That is
exactly how Duarch Samist stated his objections last week.”

“We
have not lost a single Myrmidon to landers or indigens. We lost every single
one to other alectors, a number to lightcannon that should never have been
built.” Dainyl did not mention that he had been forced to kill three of the
rebel-suborned officers of Seventh Company. “That suggests that the High
Alector of Engineering has been rather lax in his oversight, if not tacitly in
support of the rebels.”

Zelyert
laughed, a low rumbling sound. “I can only suggest laxity in oversight at the
moment. That should be sufficient.” He paused, then asked, “Has anything new
happened in the Iron Valleys?”

“Third
Battalion should be there tomorrow. They were delayed by the floods and the
loss of the piers at Dekhron. There is no sign of adverse action by the
ancients.”

“Not
that you know about.”

“That
is true, sir.”

“You
may be requested to brief the Duarch on that — and to explain again the reason
for your tactics in Hyalt.”

“I
will be happy to do so, sir.” Dainyl had very conflicted feelings about that,
especially about explaining again what he had already explained.

“Is
there anything else, Marshal?”

“No,
sir.”

Zelyert
rose. “Then I need to depart for the Palace. The Duarch is greatly concerned
about the number of criminals fleeing Ifryn and translating to Acorus. Even if
they are executed immediately, the translation tube linkage creates a lifeforce
loss. For a handful, that is not a problem, but we’re seeing more than
handfuls.”

Dainyl
stood. “That suggests that order on Ifryn is breaking down and that it will not
be long before the Master Scepter is transferred.” He paused. “Is it possible
that some of those translating here have been tacitly encouraged and allowed to
reach the Tables in order to reduce the pressure on Efra?”

“There’s
no doubt about that,” returned Zelyert, his tone ironic, “but it would do
little good to tell the Duarch so.”

“Because
we can’t do anything about it but accept alectors or kill them?”

“I
don’t see any of us trying to translate to Ifryn to complain to the Archon.”
Zelyert gestured to the door.

“Until
later, sir.” Dainyl took the hint, bowed, and departed.

As
he headed back up the steps to the main level of the Hall, Dainyl could not
help but shiver slightly at what he knew was occurring all across Acorus. The
world was a refuge for alectors, but a refuge that could only hold so many. If
too many flooded through the Tables ...

He
shook his head.

The
sun hung low over the Westerhills, and a cool breeze threatening chill blew out
of the northeast, seemingly straight from the towering cliffs that marked the
Aerial Plateau some forty vingts away. Third Battalion had ridden all Septi,
with minimal breaks, and Mykel’s shoulder and back had begun to ache, reminding
him that he was not quite healed from his injuries.

Not
long after he saw the waystone announcing Iron
Ste.
was but three vingts ahead, Mykel ordered the battalion off the road to allow
another heavy black wagon, bearing iron pigs, drawn by eight dray horses, to
rumble past them, heading south for Dekhron. Mykel had not told any of the
drivers that the loading piers had been destroyed. Either the iron would wait
there, or the piermasters would find some way to transfer it to the barges for
the trip down the Vedra to the engineers and forges of Faitel.

While
Mykel could not see the town ahead, only a scattering of cots and outbuildings
amid the rectangular fields and oak forests whose leaves had begun to turn, he
could make out a reddish glow coming from the north, somewhere to the west of
the high road.

“That
must be the ironworks,” he said to Culeyt, captain of Sixteenth Company, who
rode beside him.

“Sir?”

“There’s
a glow up ahead on the left.”

“You
must have better eyes than me, sir. I can’t make it out.”

“It’s
there.”

rrom
somewnere m trie cadmians riding behind them, Mykel caught the murmurs.

“Majer
sees stuff vingts before anyone else ...”

“...
hears things, too,” came the unmistakable tone of a squad leader.

There
were no more murmurs for the moment.

Another
quarter glass of riding brought Mykel and the vanguard to where they could make
out the rough outline of the town ahead. In the twilight, a haze enveloped the
dwellings and buildings, a haze that almost glowed.

Before
long, the high road had become the main north-south avenue of Iron Stem, with
modest dwellings and occasional shops fronting it. Most of the structures were
of brick or stone, with split slate roofs, and all seemed modest. Ahead lay the
town square, a stone-paved area empty except for the granite pedestal with the
statue of the Duarches in the middle. On the south side was the town fountain,
and two stone troughs for watering mounts and dray horses. The east side
contained a cloth factor’s, adjoining a weaver’s. An old two-story inn
dominated the west side. It had been constructed completely of brick and stone,
which dated it back centuries, to the time before timbering had been permitted
from the forests to the west and south of the town.