Soarers Choice (27 page)

“I
will.” Zelyert left the study first. He was still angry.

Dainyl
picked up the case.

“Marshal...
do you know what you’re doing?” asked Delari quietly. “You could get stranded
in Blackstear, and with the Ifryn Myrmidons as angry as they are, even you ...”

“Unfortunately,
I do know. Sulerya taught me, and you’re the only recorder I’d tell that to.”
He began to walk toward the Table chamber.

“I
never thought it would be like this,” Delari said quietly.

Neither
had Dainyl, for all that he had learned in the past two years. They walked
without saying more to the Table chamber, where Delari opened both doors for
Dainyl. Lystrana had not arrived, and that was probably for the best.

Chastyl
glanced from Delari to Dainyl, and then to the case. His eyebrows rose. He
looked even more exhausted than did Delari.

“That’s
for the new RA in Dereka,” Dainyl explained. “I hadn’t heard...”

“My
wife. She’ll be here later to translate there.”

“Do
you think... ?” began Chastyl. “With Blackstear... ?”

“Better
now than later,” replied Dainyl. “That’s why it’s important to get Lystrana to
Dereka. It’s been without a regional alector for too long. If I get back in
time, I’ll go with her and then translate back.”

Another
expression of puzzlement crossed Chastyl’s face.

“I
have a task in Blackstear. You and Delari will need to monitor the Tables.”

The
door to the Table chamber opened again. The High Alector stepped up to Dainyl
and handed him the lightcutters — in their holsters.

Dainyl
fastened one holster to his belt on each side, and slipped the third inside his
tunic. “One way or another, this will be quick.” He stepped onto the Table.

As
he did, a young alector in a blue tunic appeared on the mirrored surface beside
Dainyl, his eyes wide. Dainyl stepped around the youth and concentrated on the
dark depths beneath the Table, sliding downward and ...

...
into the chill purple duskiness. He focused all his attention on the black
locator, by far the hardest to discern, and extended a Talent link.

Around
him flashed lines of pinkish purple, and in the distance — except it was a
distance with no direction — he sensed a vague amber-green force, links of a
type. The translation tube shivered, once and then once more, as if the 1
ancients were forging those links with a massive Talent hammer.

Dainyl
redoubled his concentration on Blackstear. He felt the locator approach — it
was never that he approached it — and the silvered-black barrier dissolved
before him.

He
held full shields, and his hands went to the lightcutters at his belt.

Five
Myrmidons in the gray and green uniforms of Ifryn lifted lightcutters. Dainyl
sensed their shields, and fired at the two with the weakest shields, using
Talent to break an opening in each shield. Both Myrmidons fell, dying.

“...
High Alector!”

“...
get help!”

Lightcutter
beams from the remaining three played across his shields, but Dainyl managed to
hold them firm. He focused on the Myrmidon heading for the doorway, cutting him
down — and exhausting the charge in one of his own lightcutters. He dropped the
useless weapon and yanked the one from inside his tunic, even as he focused on
the undercaptain who reached for a riflelike lightcutter.

Dainyl
lashed out with Talent at the other remaining ranker, throwing him against the
stone of the wall, then flared a bolt of Talent, not at the heavily shielded
undercaptain, but at the weapon, which felt like a miniature lightcannon.

The
weapon’s power crystals exploded, and the undercaptain staggered back.

In
the alector’s moment of surprise Dainyl struck with both lightcutters and
Talent. For the first onslaught, the junior officer’s shields held, but not for
the second.

Dainyl
did not even leave the Table, but probed with his Talent, weakened, for the
tiny octagonal crystal within the Table that would put it into an inert state.
He offered a small Talent pulse and could sense the Table reacting.

Even
as the door to the chamber opened, and a blast of light and heat flared against
his weakened shields, Dainyl was concentrating on the darkness beneath, and
sliding through the mirrored surface of the Table ...

...
into the welcome chill of the translation tube.

For
a timeless but apparently long moment, he did nothing, before forcing himself
to focus on the brilliant white locator of Elcien. His thoughts and Talent felt
sluggish.

Slowly
... slowly ... the locator vector neared him, and finally, the white-silver
barrier shattered away from him in large fragments.

He
stood on the Table, taking two staggering steps to keep from falling. Frost and
cold mist wreathed him, something that had not happened since he had first
learned to use the Tables. Deliberately, carefully, Dainyl stepped down. His
legs were wobbly, and he had to lean against the Table. Blackness swam around
him, and he put his head down to keep from losing consciousness.

“Are
you all right?” asked Delari.

“...
took a lot... of Talent... empty stomach ...”

After
several moments, Dainyl straightened. He didn’t see Zelyert, but Adya was
standing in the corner of the chamber. He realized he was still holding the
lightcutters. It took a deliberate effort to holster them.

“Sir?
What should I tell the High Alector?”

That
alone told Dainyl that Zelyert was still angry. Still, until he regained his
Talent-strength, Dainyl had best not show his own anger at the self-centered
arrogance of the High Alector. He forced a smile. “You can report to him that
the Table at Blackstear is inactive — “

“We
can confirm that,” added Chastyl. “It’s off the grid.”

“
— and that there are five less Myrmidons from Ifryn at Blackstear. Where can I
get something to eat, quickly?”

“You
can sit down in my study, sir,” offered the assistant. “I’ll get you
something.”

Neither
Chastyl nor any of the guards said a word as Dainyl followed Adya out of the
Table chamber, with Delari behind him. Dainyl looked to see if Lystrana’s case
was still set against the wall and was reassured to see that it was. He winced
as he saw the blue tunic folded on top of the neat pile of garments in the corner
of the chamber. His stomach turned. Yet he had done exactly the same thing.
He’d even sought out alectors whose only offense was that they had broken the
rules in an attempt to survive. The fact that a whole world might die if entry
from Ifryn were not restricted didn’t take away those deaths.

“This
way, Marshal...” prompted Adya.

Dainyl
followed, almost blindly, finally sinking onto the hard wooden chair set at the
corner of the small writing desk in a truly tiny study.

Delari
remained standing, her back against the stone of the wall. She did not speak
until Adya was well away. “How did you manage that? It’s impossible to
translate from an inactive Table.”

“There’s
the slightest delay between the Talent command and when it starts powering
down. You just can’t hesitate. Not in the slightest.”

She
shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to try that.”

“You
shouldn’t. It’s not your line of work.”

“What
are you, Marshal — Myrmidon, flier, officer, assassin, Table mechanic,
recorder?”

At
the moment, he felt more like an assassin. “I’m just trying to do what has to
be done.” And not liking it in the slightest.

Adya
returned with a mug of cider, a wedge of cheese, and half a loaf of dark bread.
“It’s not fancy ...”

“It
looks wonderful.” Dainyl looked up. “Has my wife arrived yet?”

“Sir?”

“Didn’t
anyone tell you? She’s the new RA for Dereka. She’s scheduled to translate
there later this morning.”

“I’d
heard that she ... but... after all this?”

“It’s
probably safer right now than it will be in a day or so, even with one Table
off the grid,” Dainyl pointed out.

Adya
looked to Delari.

“He’s
right about that.”

“Let
me check on your wife,” offered Adya.

“Tell
her I’ll be with her as soon as I can,” replied Dainyl with a mouthful of bread
and cheese.

In
moments, or so it seemed, Dainyl had gone through all the bread and cheese, as
well as drained the large mug of cider. He could feel his lightheadedness begin
to recede.

“Zelyert
is afraid of you,” Delari said. “That’s why he’s avoiding you. You may have as
much Talent as he does, and he’s the most Talented of the High Alectors.”

Dainyl
didn’t feel all that Talented. He just felt tired. He also wondered how many
more alectors would die at his hand or through his orders.

Less
than a tenth of a glass later, as Dainyl was beginning to feel he had regained
some of his strength and Talent, Adya returned.

“Your
wife is down the corridor, outside the Table chamber. She’s waiting for you.”

“Thank
you very much.” Dainyl rose.

This
time Delari did not follow him as he walked back to the Table chamber. She
headed in the direction of Zelyert’s private study.

Lystrana
stood outside the outer door to the Table chamber. “I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m
glad to be here to see you,” he replied. “I can translate to Dereka with you,
but I’ll have to return immediately. I’ll have to take First Company to
Blackstear.”

She
glanced at the weapons at his belt, then raised her left eyebrow, as if to ask
what had been going on.

“Trouble
in Blackstear. We need to get you to Dereka.” He really didn’t want to explain
more, given where they were. He opened the doors for Lystrana, and she carried
the smaller case through the foyer and into the Table chamber.

Chastyl
looked up. “Do you think this is wise?”

“She
has to get to Dereka. It’s calmer now,” Dainyl replied. “It won’t stay that
way.” He. walked over to the wall and picked up the case he had left there,
then joined Lystrana on the Table. “If the High Alector asks, I’ll be back very
shortly.”

The
recorder looked as though he wanted to protest, but he refrained.

Dainyl
nodded to Lystrana, then waited a moment, until she began to fade and drop into
the Table. Only then did he concentrate on the dark tube beneath.

In
the purpled shadowy chill, he thought he could sense a warmer purpleness, but
he did not dwell on it, concentrating instead on the crimson-gold locator of
Dereka.

While
the flashes of purple were fewer than when he had translated to Blackstear,
there were far more than there had been even a few months before, and the
amber-green links reverberated in the immeasurable distance.

He
was surprised to find the locator flashing toward him, the silvered
crimson-gold barrier dissolving away from him.

Belatedly,
he strengthened what shields he had left as he emerged practically on top of
Lystrana. He had to step sideways to avoid crashing into her.

Four
alector guards, tired-eyed but alert, watched the Table, but their eyes
flickered toward Jonyst.

The
recorder nodded. “Marshal of Myrmidons and the chief assistant to the High
Alector of Finance.”

Dainyl
stepped off the table with the heavier case and set it down, taking the second
case from Lystrana.

Once
they were off the Table, Lystrana murmured, “You never told me why you’re
headed north, besides trouble.”

Dainyl
set the smaller case down. “Myrmidons from Ifryn stormed the Table at
Blackstear.”

Jonyst
looked up from where he stood at the end of the Table. “I couldn’t help but
overhear, Marshal. The Table at Blackstear has gone inactive.”

Dainyl
smiled politely. “I know. That’s why we’ll be able to handle them with a
company, but we’ll need to put the Table back on the grid before long.” ‘

Lystrana’s
eyes widened and dropped once more to the lightcutters at Dainyl’s belt.

He
nodded, very slightly. “Later.” He raised his voice. “Jonyst, Lystrana is
taking over as the new RA for Dereka.”

The
recorder smiled broadly. “That is good news for those of us here in Dereka. I
was wondering when the Duarch would replace Yadaryst.”

“Would
it be possible for your driver to get her and these cases to her headquarters?”

“Guersa
would be pleased to help with that. I’ll have her come to carry the other
case.”

Dainyl
turned to Lystrana and hugged her. He didn’t like doing it in public, but the
way matters were turning out, he had no
i.e.
when
he’d see her again. “You be careful.”

“You’re
the one who needs to be careful. The green is stronger. Not much, but it is.
Please be careful,” she whispered in his ear before they broke apart.

“I
will.”

Dainyl
stepped back onto the Table, concentrating.

The
purple chill barely bothered him as he linked with the white locator of Elcien
and then flowed through the mist of silver and white.

He
was off the Table before Chastyl spoke.

“That
was quick, Marshal. I haven’t even had time to pass the word to the High
Alector.” His smile was quick, but held a hint of a grin.

“I’d
guess you won’t have to,” replied Dainyl. “I can tell him what he needs to
know.”

With
a nod, he left the Table chamber, wondering if Zelyert had left the Hall or if
he remained in his study. He also couldn’t help but worry about Lystrana’s
words about the Talent-green of the ancients being stronger.

Delari
stepped into the corridor from Zelyert’s study as Dainyl neared. “The Highest
would like to speak to us.”

“I’m
certain,” Dainyl replied dryly, moving into the private study behind Delari and
closing the door.

“Where
did you go, Marshal?” Zelyert remained standing.