Soarers Choice (60 page)

Mykel
walked back to the roan. He hated waiting, but an officer who couldn’t wait as
needed was borrowing trouble, if not worse.

A
quarter glass passed before Bhoral returned. “Captain Culeyt reports that
Fourteenth Company stands ready in position.”

One
glass passed, then another.

Shielded
by the trees, Mykel stood and watched the road to the north. Several riders
appeared, riding slowly. Then, a larger group followed, several hundred yards
behind. Mykel kept waiting, hoping that Rhystan would wait until the last
possible moment before opening fire.

Abruptly,
the Reillies turned eastward, off the road, moving toward the trees that held
Sixteenth Company.

Finally,
a puff of smoke rose from the front of the hillside trees sheltering Sixteenth
Company. A second followed. Two of the leading Reillie riders were cut down
immediately. The volleys continued, and despite the scattered bodies falling
from mounts, the Reillies poured into the valley.

A
mass of riders — close to company size — charged the hillock and the woods. The
shots from Rhystan’s men ripped through the Reillies, and more and more of them
fell. Yet they pressed toward Sixteenth Company, coming within thirty yards
before breaking.

Rather
than continue to face the withering fire from the trees on the knoll, they
turned and galloped south, to the narrow snow-covered meadow, where the
remaining riders — less than thirty — turned and rode up the slope.

“Sir...
they’re riding straight up through the snow on the west.”

Mykel
had already seen that. He turned to Khaerst, the messenger mounted beside him.
“Ride to Undercaptain Loryalt. He’s to have his best marksmen ride forward to
pick off those that they can, but he’s not to pursue under any circumstances.”
Not through the knee-deep snowdrifts on a north-facing slope.

“Yes,
sir. Pick off those they can, but don’t pursue.” Khaerst spurred his mount out
along the tree line and then onto the road downhill, before cutting back to the
south and the lower hill where Seventeenth Company was drawn up.

Mykel
glanced back to the northern end of the vale, but the road there was empty,
except for fallen mounts and men. The bulk of the Reillie force had turned
back.

Then
he watched as a half squad of Seventeenth Company rode downhill and formed up
into a rough firing line. With the wind blowing away from him, he could not
hear the shots, but he did see the results as a number of Reillie mounts went
down in the snow. At least ten Reillies fell as well, presumably from the
shots.

Less
than a half glass later, the valley was empty of Reillies, except for the
scattered handfuls of dead and wounded.

Mykel
and his officers remained mounted, in a tough circle on the section of the road
above the valley, as he received the casualty reports — eleven Cadmian
casualties against more than seventy deaths for the Reillies. That was
acceptable, but not decisive, reflected Mykel. Still, gradual attrition of the
enemy with minimal Cadmian losses wouldn’t defeat the insurgents, and with the
coming snows and cold of late winter, a war of attrition would become less and less
practical.

On
Duadi morning, accompanied by Dalyrt and Patrylon, Dainyl once more made his
way up to the Hall of Justice to hear the petitions of the disaffected and
aggrieved. The first petitioner was one Rexana, an older indigen woman. She
claimed she had been robbed at the Eastern Market Square in Elcien. While a
patroller was citing her for having a cart that did not meet standards of
cleanliness, a common thief had run off with her cash box, and the patroller
had just watched, and then added to her fine because she had left him to chase
the thief.

“Do
you know who the patroller is?” Dainyl asked.

“How
would I be knowing that?” claimed Rexana. “He was one of the new ones, not like
old Gievat, who knew what was important.”

“I
cannot remedy a wrong if I cannot ascertain if it took place and who committed
it,” Dainyl pointed out. “You bring me his name, and justice will be done.”

“I’ll
be back, Highest, that I will.”

Dainyl
couldn’t help but remember the painting by Jeluyne — in the art exhibit in the
Duarch’s Palace months before — that had depicted a scene all too much like
Rexana’s testimony. Were the patrollers really that inflexible? He had the
disturbing feeling that they were, but he couldn’t do that much to help the
woman without more information. Still...

He
leaned forward and murmured to Patrylon, “Make a note of patroller
inflexibility.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Dainyl
also noted the mixed feelings of puzzlement and condescension from Dalyrt, but
decided that the dais was not the place from which to explore them — or that,
even if he did, Dalyrt would understand.

“Next!”
declaimed Patrylon.

The
second petitioner was also a woman, a much younger one, named Erlyna. She had a
bruise on one side of her face.

Patrylon
handed Dainyl the petition and several sheets from the justicer of Elcien.

According
to the justicer’s decision, rendered five months earlier, one Tehark of Elcien
had beaten his wife Erlyna repeatedly. The justicer had granted her both a
divorcement and the dwelling, as well as custody of their three children, and
required Tehark to pay one gold a month. According to the petition, Tehark had
left Elcien, but he had refused to pay the golds, and he had returned in the
night two months ago, and broken down the door and raped her and beaten her.
The patrollers had been unable to find him — except it was thought that he had
been the one to kill a patroller. He had been sentenced to death in absentia.
Two nights ago, he had returned and assaulted her once more and vanished into
the night.

“Did
Tehark assault you two nights ago?” Dainyl hated to ask the question, but he
needed to sense her answer and truthfulness.

“Yes,
Highest. He hurt me. There are bruises ...” She started to unfasten her jacket.

“That
will be enough. I can sense the truth.” Dainyl dropped his eyes to the papers,
trying to think. What good was a judgment that seemingly could not be enforced?
With an alector, it would not have been a problem, because there were so few
that they could not have escaped, but there were more than two million landers
and indigens just in the western half of Corus, and unless they were willing to
turn in malcontents like Tehark ...

He
looked up and studied Erlyna. Her jaw trembled, and Dainyl could sense she was
close to tears. “Has anyone seen Tehark besides you?”

“No,
Highest. He’s too clever.” She sobbed once. “He’s strong. He’s almost as big as
you are, Highest.”

An
indigen that big should stand out, and yet no one could find him. “What do you
do?”

“I’m
a weaver.”

Dainyl
took a slow deep breath. “Be it decreed that the life of one Tehark, formerly
of Elcien, is hereby forfeit, and that any who bring him or his body to the Hall
of Justice shall receive ten golds, and no questions shall be asked, except to
verify the identity of Tehark.” Erlyna’s mouth opened.

“I
cannot find a man who does not wish to be found and who hides among his own
disreputable kind, but those who are disreputable may wish to enrich themselves
at his expense.”

Dainyl
turned to Patrylon. “Have copies of the decree sent to all patroller stations
and have them posted in the market squares.”

“So
be it,” announced Patrylon.

The
remaining petitions were somewhat less vexing and included reducing the levy of
an excessive fine for failure to maintain the proper sand and water barrels for
fire suppression. The others, Dainyl saw no reason to change.

Promptly
at midday, Dainyl vacated the dais. He already understood that remaining a
moment longer merely encouraged more people to come late in hopes of waiting
less time for their petitions to be heard.

Once
Dainyl was in the lower corridor, Dalyrt cleared his throat.

“Yes,
Dalyrt?”

“That
woman who was beaten, sir? We haven’t used a decree like that in decades,”
ventured Dalyrt.

Dainyl
turned to him. “Perhaps we haven’t. Do you have a better
i.e.
for those like this Tehark? He’s assaulted and beaten her, probably killed at
least one patroller, and we’ve been able to do nothing in more than half a
year. We’re supposed to provide order. I could have made another judgment
against him, but what good is a judgment that cannot be enforced?”

“Does
that not appeal to the indigens’ greatest weakness, sir, their love of golds?”

“Have
the other appeals — to their sense of fairness, for example — been effective?”

Dalyrt
did not meet Dainyl’s eyes. What exactly had Zelyert been doing as High
Alector? Wasn’t the High Alector supposed to foster justice?

Dainyl
did not go directly to his study, but to see Adya first. “Do we have any
messages from the east or from the Marshal of Myrmidons?”

“No,
sir,” replied Adya. “The only message is one from the Duarch’s chamberlain.”

“Bharyt?”

“Yes,
sir. He wanted to remind you of the meeting with the Duarch.”

Dainyl
scarcely could have forgotten, considering he needed to confront Alseryl about
the supplies to Lysia.

“Oh
... I gave Patrylon a note about patroller inflexibility. There have been two
cases brought to my attention involving the Eastern Market Square where
patrollers were so concerned about cleanliness that they ignored more
significant theft.”

Adya
nodded, but Dainyl could sense something more. “What is it, Adya?”

“It
has always been a problem keeping the market squares clean, sir, particularly
the eastern one. At one time, the stench was ... overpowering.”

“We
wouldn’t want that,” Dainyl agreed. “But about the theft... ?”

“No
matter what any High Alector has done, the theft remains. If there are more
patrollers, it becomes more hidden, and the cost to the Hall of Justice and the
Duarchy rises.”

“So
we maintain enough patrollers to keep theft from being rampant and have them
concentrate on those matters where their efforts seem to yield results?”

“That
has been the past policy,” Adya said carefully.

“Thank
you. I will consider whatever I decide in light of the experience of others.”
So far as Dainyl was concerned, that didn’t necessarily mean following such
precedents, but he would need to be careful in whatever changes he undertook
and how he structured those changes.

He
offered a smile before heading back to his study — and perhaps another half
glass of work in the time until he had to leave for his early afternoon meeting
with the Duarch.

Before
that long, he had taken the coach to the Palace and was stepping through the
archway into the entry foyer — just slightly before the glass appointed for the
meeting of the High Alectors and the Duarch.

Bharyt,
as always, stood waiting.

“Good
afternoon, Bharyt.”

“Good
afternoon, sir. Moryn will escort you to the conference room.” Bharyt inclined
his head slightly. An unsmiling alector in dark gray trimmed in green stepped
forward.

“Are
any of the others here?”

“The
High Alector of Transport, sir.”

“Thank
you.”

Bharyt
nodded slightly in reply.

Dainyl
followed Moryn through the columned section of the entry foyer and down the
high-ceilinged corridor, past the closed library door where Dainyl had always
met with the Duarch, and to the conference room. The only other time that
Dainyl had been in the conference room was when he had briefed some of the
other High Alectors on the events in Hyalt.

Alseryl
stood beside the circular table in his shimmersilk greens. He glanced at Dainyl
and smiled faintly. “You affect an older style, in your greens, as well as in
other matters.”

“The
older styles seem to suit me best, Alseryl. They do most Myrmidons, I would
judge.”

“Ah,
yes, always the Myrmidon.”

“I
find that preferable to other possibilities,” replied Dainyl with a laugh.

“I
can see that — the comfortable confines of regulation and certainty.”

“And
the understanding that while power is necessary to maintain what is right, it
does not make right.”

Before
Alseryl could respond, the door opened once more, and Chembryt stepped inside.

“Good
to see you both, you especially, Dainyl. I heard that you decided to employ
financial incentives to bolster adherence to justice.”

“You
obviously have better information than some in the Hall of Justice, although
that is changing,” replied Dainyl.

The
faintest hint of a frown crossed Alseryl’s forehead.

Immediately
behind Alseryl came Khelaryt, and Chembryt stepped aside in deference to the
Duarch.

Khelaryt
gestured to the comfortable chairs around the circular table. Chembryt seated
himself easily, as did Dainyl. Alseryl hesitated slightly, then sat. The three
High Alectors in shimmersilk greens were loosely clustered around the half of
the table facing the Duarch, who smiled warmly as he settled into his chair.

While
Dainyl was aware of the Talent forces swirling behind the shields of those in
the room, he was aware that now neither Chembryt nor Alseryl could have
prevailed against him, even together. He also realized that for all the
Talent-strength manifested by Khelaryt, there was what he would have called an
uncertainty behind that power, and that made no sense to him.

“This
meeting will have to be short,” began Khelaryt. “If you would begin,
Chembryt...”

“Yes,
sir. As I mentioned at the last meeting, we face a significant financial
shortfall. The annual budget is roughly one million five hundred thousand
golds. The deficit for the past half year was close to one hundred thousand
golds and was covered by transfers from the Duarchy’s reserve account, but we
cannot continue to do that for more than three years before it will be
exhausted, and either trade tariffs will have to be increased or some other
form of tariffing will need to be instituted. Or expenditures by entities under
the various High Alectors will need to be reduced.” Chembryt cleared his
throat, then continued. “The largest single deficit was incurred by
Engineering, totaling close to sixty thousand golds, while Justice incurred a
thirty-thousand-gold deficit, and Transport one of ten thousand.”