“Scarcely a manly sentiment, Captain.” The words were cold, cutting, despite the slight huskiness in her voice, but the driver moved away from Mykel.
As she moved, he quickly leaned forward in the saddle and lifted the rifle away, careful to keep the barrel down and away from anyone. Then he straightened and checked the weapon, clearly Cadmian-issue. He looked to the plate under the stock. It was blank, and so was the flattened space on the underside of the barrel. Both should have held numbers, identical numbers.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to keep this, ladies,” Mykel said politely.
“Keep it? Just who do you think you are, riding up and taking things from two women going about their own business? How are two women supposed to protect themselves out here? You couldn’t find one of those so-called raiders if you had ten times the men you do. Riding up and down roads…”
Mykel kept smiling, wondering how long she would rail at him.
“You call yourself a captain, but you’re more of a thief than those poor prisoners you’re looking for. They didn’t take hard-earned goods… they were just stupid, and drank too much…”
“Madam,” Mykel began…
“I am not a madam, and don’t call me that, and you may not have my name, either. I know your kind.”
“All right!” the captain snapped. “Enough.”
The tone of his voice stopped the woman’s tirade. She looked at him as if he had suddenly become an alector or grown an arm from the middle of his chest. Yet there was strength, not fear, and he had to admit he admired that.
Mykel spoke into the sudden silence. “You are carrying a Cadmian rifle. That is against the Code. I could have you both charged and flogged, at the very least. I doubt that you are the guilty party, but possession is a flogging offense as well.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened, and Mykel felt that she had had no idea that carrying a Cadmian rifle was indeed a crime.
“It is most clear that you did not intend to commit a crime, and I doubt that anyone even told you that possessing a military weapon was a crime. I will have your names and the rifle, and you may go on your way.”
“You’d leave us unprotected?” asked the older woman, speaking for the first time.
“Madam,” Mykel replied, trying to keep his tone polite. “For the entire past week, everyone has been telling us that there was no need for us to patrol the roads. They have told us that there are no rebels, no escaped prisoners, and no danger. If there is no danger, then there is no need for a rifle.”
The older woman looked down.
“Your names and your home, if you would,” Mykel asked.
“Kamrita.”
The sense of falseness was so great that Mykel snapped back. “That’s not your name.”
“Rytora.”
“Neither is that.”
“Rachyla of Stylan Estate,” the driver replied, in a lower voice, for the first time showing a trace of tentativeness.
The captain looked to the older woman.
“I’m her aunt, Astylara.”
“Astylara and Rachyla of Stylan Estate,” repeated Mykel. He looked to Chyndylt. “Have your men check the cart, and underneath. Carefully, and just for weapons.”
“You…” murmured Rachyla. “My father will…”
“I am doing the duty I was assigned, madam. I am certain he will understand that.” Mykel forced another smile, waiting as the two rankers pulled back the tarp covering the rear of the cart and revealing a half score of baskets filled with shelled nuts.
“There’s nothing underneath, sir. Nothing but the nuts in the baskets.”
“Cover their load, and step back.” Mykel turned to Rachyla. “You ladies may proceed, but I would suggest that carrying contraband rifles is not a wise form of protection at present.” He eased his mount back and watched as the woman flicked the leads, and the cart began to roll southward, away from Mykel and third squad.
“You think you should have let her go?” asked Chyndylt. “You know what the majer said.”
“We have the rifle.” Mykel paused. “It doesn’t have any numbers or markings.”
“It doesn’t? How could it not… it has to be smuggled, then.”
“I’d judge so,” replied the captain.
“And you let her go?”
“I don’t think that it would have been a good idea to turn a major landholder’s wife or daughter over to a justicer to be flogged for carrying a rifle she said she needed for protection.” Mykel’s voice was dry. “Besides, we know who she is, and we have the rifle. If the majer—or the colonel— wants her flogged, he can get her.”
And, sometime during the patrol, Mykel would have to write a report on the incident, to turn over to the majer along with the rifle. He’d bent the rules, but going by them’t blindly would have been worse—far, far worse. Either way, he’d pay, but that was often what happened to junior officers. Using judgment was a danger, but so was not exercising it.
He took a deep breath and squared himself in the saddle, looking down at the contraband Cadmian rifle that he held. A week of chasing smugglers and escaped prisoners that no one had ever seen, and he had exactly one rifle to show for it—taken from a woman connected to some wealthy lander.
25
Sexdi morning dawned bright, but breezy, cooler than it had been on the two previous days. As he crossed the courtyard in the blue shimmersilk jacket he wore over his uniform when flying, heavy gloves in hand, Dainyl wished he had decided to take the inspection flight earlier, when it had been warmer, but he had not, and there wasn’t much point in remonstrating with himself over the decision. What he did know was that he couldn’t afford to put it off longer. There was too much he did not know about Dramur.
Quelyt was waiting by the square set aside for his pteri-don. Behind him, the pteridon crouched, blue crystal beak slightly parted.
“Where are we headed now, sir?”
“West, over the mountains. There are some large plantations over there, or so I’ve been told. We need to look at them.”
“We can do that.” Quelyt paused. “Can’t say I’ve ever been there.”
“Neither have I,” replied the colonel, a wry tone to his words.
It had taken Dainyl more than a week to realize what he was missing—or one of the things he was missing. There had been a number of references to the “big growers” or the seltyrs in the west, but always in passing. He’d finally decided that, before asking more about the west, an inspection flight would be in order. That way, he hoped, any answers that he got would make more sense. Certainly, according to the maps, there were but a handful of hamlets to the west of the Murian Mountains, and two small natural harbors.
When he had been a ranker, or even a flying officer, and had been dispatched to Dramur, he’d never flown west of the mountains. All the dispatches and transport had always dealt with Dramuria and the Cadmian compound. He was acutely conscious of that lack of knowledge about the west side of Dramur.
“I’d wager it’s a good two glasses to the west shore.”
“If it takes all day, we still need to do it.”
“Yes, sir.” Quelyt checked the harnesses, and then mounted and strapped himself in.
Dainyl followed him, and in less than a quarter glass, they were airborne, climbing westward away from the Cadmian compound.
To the immediate west of Dramuria, the dryness of the winter was all too obvious. Dust swirled up in the light winds, and the vegetation, from what grass there was to the leaves on the casaran trees, was tinged with brown or tan. Even on the stone road that eventually led to the guano mine, the few carts threw up fine dust that Dainyl could see from almost a vingt in the air.
A winding dirt or clay road branched off the mine road north of the town, less than half a vingt beyond the point where the road to the compound separated from the mine road and curved uphill and eastward. Given the narrowness of the road west as it headed toward the mountains, Dainyl could certainly understand why
the larger growers preferred to send their produce by boat.
The wide blue wings beat evenly, and the air was calm enough that Dainyl was able to get a steady view of the hills to the east of the mountains. Like the area to the north, around the mine, the slopes were a mixture of open ground, sandy and rocky, with scattered bushes and trees. The trees were scraggly pines of some sort, and the leaves on the bushes a faded green that suggested very little moisture had fallen recently.
For a time, as the pteridon carried the two Myrmidons westward, over the dry foothills, the peaks of the mountains seemed as far away as when they had first lifted off from the compound. Then, after they had flown almost a glass, the hills began to steepen into low peaks, far lower than those around the mines to the north of Dramuria. The tops were rocky, expanses of gray and black stone.
Within another quarter glass, the ancient lava on the peaks had given way to sandstone alone, and more ever greens were evident. Several times, Dainyl lost sight of the narrow road winding its way through the hills, then the low mountains, but just when he thought it had vanished for good, he caught sight of yet another section of road.
Then they were over the mountains, and heading lower.
The hills to the west of the mountains were far greener than those on the east side, and also looked less rugged, with rounded crests and wider and shallower valleys. The trees were evergreens, mostly, from what Dainyl could see, and there were few patches where nothing grew. While the hillsides were not lush, they were well vegetated.
Quelyt turned and called back. “Looks greener over here.”
“Quite a bit.”
In places, Dainyl thought he saw evidence of timbering, but whoever had been cutting had been doing so selectively, so that there was mixed old and new growth. He smiled wryly. While timbering was frowned upon, he doubted that any of the high alectors would bother with a lander grower who was cautious enough to cut so carefully.
Ahead, just to the left of the winding road, was a long ridge. At one end was a villa, with grounds surrounded by a stone wall.
‘Take us over that villa!“
The pteridon banked slightly, then straightened.
The estate grounds enclosed by the stone wall were easily a vingt square, with several gardens, and fountains. Gracefully curved stone lanes ran from the main gate to the outbuildings, the stables, then to a separate lodge set before an oval pool surrounded by a stone terrace. The main villa was a rectangle with a courtyard within, and four separate gardens. One of the gardens held a hedge maze with white gravel or stone paths. Another held an array of flowers—winter or not—whose blooms were clear from above.
The pteridon swept past the villa before Dainyl could note everything.
“Do you want another look, sir?” called Quelyt.
“No. Just keep heading for the coast.”
Dainyl kept scanning the rolling hills, with meadows, long lines of trees, perhaps some of which were the local apple bananas, and recently tilled fields.
He could see other estates, certainly of comparable size to the first, if not larger, and the winding road that they had followed had become straighter—and wider—and headed for the coast, and what looked to be a harbor.
Every so often, he could make a out a clump of houses, more like hamlets than villages, but there weren’t many more of those than villas from what he was seeing.
They passed over another estate, except there were two villas within the walls, and each was larger than the first villa that Dainyl had seen. The outbuildings were numerous, including several across from stables that could have passed for barracks, except for the laundry hung on lines behind the structures. He didn’t see a pool, but there was an open riding arena, although he could make out neither riders nor horses at the moment.
The growers in the west were definitely far better off than those in the east.
“That looks like a harbor ahead,” he called to Quelyt. “Let’s see what it looks like.”
“Heading there, sir!”
The gently rolling hills actually rose as they neared the Lioastline. The harbor was small, but well protected by rock bluffs, almost as if a volcanic caldera had once stood there, and the ocean had broken through on the west, leaving a circular green bay. Dainyl saw two stone piers and a schooner tied to one. Several buildings, warehouses, stood at the shoreward end of the piers.
Small harbor or not, the warehouses looked to be almost as extensive as those at the port in Dramuria. Given what Dainyl had seen, that didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was that there were no large villages. Most of the people seemed to be gathered into the buildings on the villa grounds. What also surprised him was that no one had mentioned the apparent wealth of the western growers.
“Now what, sir?” asked Quelyt.
“North along the coast for a while. Then we’ll swing back east.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl doubted that he would see anything much different from what they had already observed, but he wanted to make sure. He had the feeling that he might not have the time to make another trip for a while.
26
After a long day’s patrol on Sexdi, Mykel had done two things. First, he had made inquiries in Enstyla about Rachyla and Stylan Estate and obtained directions to the estate. Then he had written up his report for the day and dispatched it with a scout to Majer Vaclyn, who had set up a makeshift headquarters in the nearby hamlet of Eltorana. The report had included a summary of all the patrols, al-though the single rifle taken from the well-attired woman was the only direct evidence of any illegal or rebellious activities among all those riders and wagons observed or stopped.
Early Septi morning, more than a glass before dawn, the scout returned with written orders to Captain Mykel that Fifteenth Company was to suspend patrols for the day and await the majer’s arrival “for further orders.” Mykel passed the order to Bhoral to have the company ready to ride when the majer arrived.
Majer Vaclyn did not arrive until the ninth glass of the day, when he summoned Mykel to meet him outside the barn used by Fifteenth Company. The majer stood in the shade afforded by the northeast corner of the structure, well away from the squad from Thirteenth Company that had accompanied him.
Mykel approached on foot and nodded. “Good morning, Majer.”
“It is morning, Captain. I am not convinced that it is good.” Vaclyn’s right hand dropped to his belt, his fingers briefly touching the hilt of the throwing dagger sheathed there in place of the standard Cadmian belt knife. There was a second dagger on the other side of his belt. Neither was regulation, but, so far as Mykel knew, no one had ever said anything about the weapons.
Mykel waited, sensing the majer’s anger.
“You have not even set up a proper study—or a command position, I see, Captain.”
“I’ve been riding with the various squads, Majer.”
“And how could they reach you in the event you were needed?”
“Each squad leader knew where to find me, sir.”
“I’m sure.” Vaclyn extracted several folded papers from his riding jacket. “I have your report here, Captain. I cannot say that I understand it. You found a woman with a contraband rifle. You took the rifle, but you did not take her into custody.”
“We confiscated the rifle and warned her of the offense, Majer.”
“We have been searching for contraband. She had a contraband rifle. Yet you saw fit not to bring her in, Captain? On what authority and on what basis did you decide to ignore both your orders and the Code?” Vaclyn’s voice was cutting.
“I believe I wrote that out in my report, sir—”
“What you wrote has no basis in regulations or in the Code. Could you explain to me, again, this time in terms I might understand, why you didn’t?”
“Yes, sir.” Mykel nodded, politely. “The woman was dressed very well, in the kind of clothes that showed she had golds. She was accompanied by an older woman, also well dressed, and she was driving a
horse cart, the kind that was almost new and well kept. She was shocked that I would ever dare to stop her. The single rifle was the only piece of contraband.”
“And that was why you didn’t punish a violation of the Code?”
“No, sir. The rifle had no numbers, and that indicated that it was not stolen from a Cadmian unit. Either it was an unauthorized gift, or it is an indication of a much greater degree of smuggling. Because of those possibilities, seizing and punishing the woman did not seem to justify the risks. She seemed very well placed in Dramur. We are already being seen as more of a danger to people than are the rebels and smugglers. I did not see how punishing her would help matters. I had thought that a visit to her estate, and a quiet explanation to either her father or husband, might well gain more information and results than punishing her immediately. I did obtain her name and location and verified them.”
“And I suppose you intended to make that visit?” Vaclyn’s tone was cutting.
“No, sir. I will, if you think it best, but I had thought that someone with greater position and authority, such as you, might make a better impression and gain more.”
“We’re here to uphold the Code, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Mykel managed to keep a polite expression on his face.
“Explain to me again how letting this woman go upholds the Code.”
“I could not have proved that she even knew the rifle was there.” That was stretching things, but not by a great amount, because the woman was the kind who could easily claim that before a justicer. “It was under the bench seat of the cart. She was not holding it, and she never looked at it. There was no other contraband in the cart, even hidden on the underside. Since she was obviously well connected, possibly to someone of great wealth, and since the rifle had no numbers, I felt that prudence was called for. Had she brandished the weapon, or used it in any fashion, then there would have been no question about applying the Code.”
Vaclyn frowned. “But you had a squad there who observed the weapon.”
“She had an aunt, also well attired, and most proper. We are foreign Cadmians. I may have misjudged the situation, sir, but I felt it wiser to err on the side of caution, rather than excess. If there are rebellious activities taking place on her estate, they could not be concealed that quickly. If there are not, then taking someone respected into custody might easily push the landowners into supporting the rebels.”
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