Soarers Choice (25 page)

“That’s
a good question,” temporized Dainyl.

Alcyna
laughed harshly. “You don’t have an answer to that, either.”

Dainyl
shrugged. He didn’t, and there was no point in saying that he did. “How did
Noryan take the orders?”

“Like
a good submarshal. He did suggest that he deploy Josaryk first, and then follow
with Third Company to Norda in a week or so. I thought that was acceptable. Was
it?”

Dainyl
had wanted Noryan away from Alustre as soon as possible, but Alcyna had been
there, and had a better feel for matters. “If you thought so, it’s probably for
the best that way.”

“We
talked it over. Brekylt is arming all his personal guard with lightcutters, and
he has over two hundred in Alustre alone. Even Noryan is concerned. Pulling
both companies at once might push Brekylt into acting immediately, and the
Myrmidons do have families there. There’s no way to move all of them.”

“Once
the companies are gone, he could only use the families for retribution, and
that wouldn’t give him control — just more determined enemies.”

“I’d
have to agree. Brekylt’s out for power, and alienating other alectors, even
lowly ones, won’t add to his control.” She smiled, faintly. “One of Retyl’s
assistants let something slip. He wanted to know if the messenger from Ludar
had returned. I didn’t look back, and I don’t think they know I heard.”

“So
Samist or his High Alectors are dealing with Brekylt.”

“More
directly since he has been freed of the shadowmatch.”

Had
that been a mistake? Should he have waited? Dainyl still didn’t know. There was
so much he didn’t know, even now, Marshal of Myrmidons or not.

Lystrana
was standing in the foyer when Dainyl stepped out of the cold wind and closed
the door behind him. He stepped forward and put his arms around her. For a
time, they clung to each other.

Then
Lystrana stepped back. “I translated to Ludar this afternoon. You knew I would,
didn’t you?” Her voice was low, subdued.

“I
had thought you might,” replied Dainyl cautiously, “but it was your choice.”

“I
was in the Table chamber in the Hall of Justice, getting ready to translate.
They killed a father and his daughter. Even Chastyl had tears in his eyes.” Her
voice dropped to a murmur. “It’s inexcusable! The Archon is sending people here
with false hope, just to make it easier for him and his cronies. Acorus can’t
take them, and he knows it. He has to know it.”

“That
wasn’t why you decided. It might have made it easier.” His smile was lopsided.
“Or harder.”

“You.
That was why I decided. You risked everything to ask for that. You wouldn’t do
it if it didn’t feel right. And for Kytrana, too.”

“But
does it feel right to you?” Dainyl asked.

Lystrana
nodded. “Especially now. The translation upset Kytrana, especially coming back.
She was afraid.”

Dainyl
had no
i.e.
how an unborn child would be afraid, but
it had to be something that intruded upon their daughter’s growing Talent.
Could she sense the turmoil in the tubes? Or the green streaks and flashes that
were the ancients? “These days, sometimes I’m afraid.”

“I
said I’d go to Dereka immediately. I can use the quarters in the regional
headquarters until I find something else.”

“When
do you leave?”

“Quinti
morning. I don’t want to make any more translations after that anytime soon.
With Kytrana, once I’m there, I can plead pregnancy. I don’t think that will
bother Samist, or Khelaryt.”

“Did
you tell Chembryt?”

“He
seemed resigned. He said I deserved it. He did ask if whoever he selected as a
new chief assistant could come to consult with me.” Lystrana smiled. “I agreed
to that.”

“Did
anything else ... happen?”

“Khelaryt
sent me a note congratulating me. He even put a phrase in it requesting that I
exert my influence to keep you from moving the Myrmidon headquarters to
Dereka.”

“That’s
safe enough. He knows I wouldn’t.” Dainyl shook his head. “I’ll be happier when
you’re settled.”

“I
do have one favor to ask, dearest.”

“What
is that?”

“You
translate with me, so that you can carry everything I’ll need.”

Dainyl
repressed a frown, although he knew Lystrana would sense his concern anyway.
“You’re as worried as I am.”

“The
next month, the next several months, will be very dangerous.”

Dainyl
had come to believe that, and certainly he and Lystrana had talked about it,
but she had said little before tonight. “Is that because of the Table chamber?”

She
shook her head, then nodded. “More because of what’s happening there, and the
fact that no one is even considering it in the Palace. I mentioned it to
Chembryt. His response was that it was regrettable, but that none of them had
wished to chance the long translation when almost anyone was allowed to make
it.”

“That
was never true. Alectors still had to obtain permission.” He stopped. “The
rationalization, the willful ignorance of what’s happening — that’s what you
meant.”

She
nodded again. “Enough. We can talk later. We shouldn’t be talking here, anyway,
even in whispers. Dinner should be ready.” She held out her hand.

Dainyl
took it, then offered his arm.

A
good half glass before sunrise on Quattri, Mykel seated himself in the small
officers’ mess and took the first sip of a cider that was bitter and turning.
The
eg.
toast was brown and already congealing into
a leathery mass.

“Majer!
Sir!” Wyorst — the duty squad leader from Fourteenth Company — stood in the
mess doorway. “Sir ... Captain Culeyt would like to see you, sir. He’s out by
the north gates. Fifty yards to the north, by the green tower.”

Mykel
rose quickly. Culeyt wasn’t one to waste his time. “Did he say why, Wyorst?”

“No,
sir. He said to get the majer.”

Mykel
hurried out of the mess and across the paving of the courtyard through an icy
wind. In the gray-shaded light that preceded dawn, he saw Culeyt standing to
the east of the eternastone pavement beside the dry ditch for drainage from the
high road, but one that had never held water in the time Third Battalion had
been in Iron Stem. With the captain was a town patroller, in brown and gray.
Both were looking down at the ditch.

Culeyt
turned as Mykel approached. “Sir, I thought you’d want to know.” He gestured
toward the figure lying in the ditch faceup.

Mykel
looked down at the almost innocent face of the young ranker, then at the
blood-smeared tunic with the slash across the abdomen, and a deeper thrust up
under the ribs.

“Kersion
didn’t report back last night, and Wyorst couldn’t find anyone who knew where
he’d been. Some of his squad-mates said he’d left early, wanted to get some
sleep.” Culeyt shook his head. “He’d have been better staying and drinking with
them.”

The
hard-faced town patroller looked at Mykel. “Look close at the dust. Someone
dragged him here from maybe around the gates.”

Mykel
looked at Culeyt. “Did anyone report anything last night?”

“No,
sir. I checked that when Wyorst reported Kersion missing.”

“I’d
like to see whoever was on guard duty last night right after we finish here.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Mykel
turned back to the patroller. “What do you think happened?”

“Simple
enough, Majer. The dusters’ll do anything for coin. It’s a couple of silvers
for a little sniff. Your boy didn’t let him off, one of them anyway. Wrenched
the knife away from him and slashed his throat and wrist. He made it another
two hundred yards north, still trying to get out to pay for another sniff.
Found him by the road. Someone came along and robbed him, too. Later,
probably.”

That
Kersion had made the duster pay was no consolation to Mykel.

“I’ll
take care of it from here, sir,” said Culeyt. “I thought you should see.”

Mykel
nodded. “I’ll be in my study. I’ll see the duty guards once you round them up.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Mykel
walked back to the compound. He couldn’t believe that the guards hadn’t heard
something, and if two dusters were involved, why would one drag Kersion’s body
away while the other one was dying. The surviving duster might have wanted what
little remained in Kersion’s wallet, but Mykel still had trouble believing that
a duster cold enough to leave a companion to die would have cooperated in the
first place. Where dreamdust and dusters were involved, anything might be
possible ... but he wanted to hear what the guards had to say.

Rhystan
was waiting outside Mykel’s study. “I just heard about Kersion.”

Mykel
gestured. The two walked into the small study.

Rhystan
closed the thin door, so old that all the panels were cracked.

“There’s
something strange about this,” Mykel said. “I asked Culeyt to round up the
guards who were on duty last night. They should have reported something. They
didn’t.”

“Ah...
I think they were from the garrison here, sir. They’ve been handling gate duty.
It seemed only fair, with our men taking the casualties.”

“From
now on, one of ours with one of theirs. I’ll tell the other officers.” Mykel
sighed.

“Are
you going to put the town off-limits?”

“Do
you think I should? We’ve already warned them about the women. I don’t like the
i.e.
of keeping them cooped up here. That’s trouble
of another kind. I’d like to require them to go in pairs, at least. Will that
work?”

“It
might,” Rhystan replied. “Especially if you tell them that you’ll restrict
everyone for a week for every time you find out that someone went out alone.”

“I’d
like to try that.”

Rhystan
nodded. “You going to eat?”

“Not
till later. Go ahead.”

With
a nod the senior captain opened the door and left, closing it behind him. Mykel
walked to the desk and picked up the duty rosters, leafing through them.

“Sir?”
Culeyt’s voice came through the thin door.

Mykel
stood, walked to the door, and opened it.

Two
Cadmians Mykel did not recognize — clearly from the local detachment — stood
before Culeyt.

“Shymal.”
Culeyt inclined his head to the brown-haired taller Cadmian. “Frejyl.” The
second Cadmian was not quite rotund and far older, his black hair shot with
gray.

“Captain,
I’d like to talk with each one separately. I’ll start with Shymal.”

“We’ll
wait down the corridor, sir.” Culeyt clearly understood what Mykel wanted.

Mykel
gestured for the younger ranker to enter. “Take a seat, Shymal.” After closing
the door, Mykel slipped behind the small desk and seated himself.

The
thin-faced ranker sat. His eyes did not meet Mykel’s.

“You
were on duty for the four glasses before midnight?”

“Yes,
sir.” Shymal shifted his weight in the hard wooden chair. “Me and Frejyl.”

“Most
of the men come back just before the eighth glass, don’t they?”

“Guess
so, sir. I mean, that’s when they’re supposed to be back, two glasses before
midnight.”

“Did
you hear or see anything strange before that?”

“It’s
pretty quiet, sir, least until a quarter before the glass.”

Mykel
could sense Shymal’s unease. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Sir?”

“About
what happened. You’re not sure about it, but something did happen. When did it
happen?” Mykel waited.

The
ranker looked at the floor planks, worn and battered under the latest coat of
oil and wax. “Didn’t think it was all that much, sir. A couple of fellows were
talking. Far enough away that you couldn’t see. Just heard it. Frejyl told me
to wait. He’d go over and quiet them down. He was gone for a while. Not long,
less than a quarter glass. He said it was two dusters, and he got them on their
way.”

Shymal
was telling the truth, but he was still uneasy, Mykel sensed. “It didn’t feel
right to you, did it?”

“Lots
of stuff hasn’t felt right lately, sir.”

“You
didn’t want to say anything because you didn’t want to get into trouble.”

“I
didn’t see anything, sir. Just didn’t think Frejyl shoulda been away from the
gate that long.”

“Why
not?”

“He
just shouldn’t. We’re supposed to be guarding the gates, not talking to
dusters.”

“Did
you hear him talking to someone?”

“No,
sir. Well, yes, sir. I heard him talking, but I couldn’t make out what he was
saying. Then he stopped talking.”

“For
how long?”

“I
don’t know. It was a while before he walked back. He said everything was
settled, and there wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Mykel
asked questions for another quarter glass, but Shymal’s story and reactions
remained constant. Finally, he stood and walked to the door, opening it and
calling for Captain Culeyt.

Culeyt
reappeared with the other ranker.

“Shymal
can go back to the barracks. He’s not to leave the post until I finish looking
into this. I’ll need to speak to you after I talk to Frejyl here.”

“Yes,
sir.” Culeyt nodded.

Mykel
could sense a vague puzzlement from the captain, but he only smiled. “If you’d
come in, Frejyl, and take a seat.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Mykel
closed the study door and seated himself. “Did you hear or see anything strange
last night?”

“No
... not really, sir.” The older ranker shifted his weight on the armless oak
chair, so old that the wood was deep golden brown, and black where it had been
nicked or scarred.

“That’s
odd.” Mykel smiled politely, waiting. “Are you sure?”

“There’s
always stuff out beyond the gates, sir. Always has been. Out a ways, maybe half
a vingt or so is where the dusters get their sniffs. Dusters come by here all
the time.”