Dainyl turned his eyes on the next recess. The greenish grass was sparse, with open patches of dirt and sand, and he could see a grass snake, clearly stalking some rodent.
Slowly, he made his way down the line of preserved exhibits.
“This was what it looked like after the first three hundred years,” explained Asulet, gesturing to a scene that showed a snowy tundra with grayish flowers protruding from an icy expanse. “That is a summer scene, by the way.”
The last recess showed a pool surrounded by snow and ice, a faint hint of steam rising from it. The only vegetation seemed to be lichens on the rocks closest to the water.
“That was what it was like in full summer when we began.”
Even with the crystal field, the chill seemed to reach out and sink into Dainyl’s very bones. He shivered.
“That was also close to the equator,” added Asulet. “This world would never have developed life, not our kind of life, without our efforts.”
“I thought it did have life. What about the so-called ancients?”
“They were dying out back then. It was getting too cold for them, and there wasn’t enough lifeforce. They’re no different from us, really. They need lifeforces to exist, and they weren’t getting enough. Their only city was Dereka…”
“That was theirs?”
“We had to rebuild it, but it was abandoned before we ever made full-body translations to Acorus.”
“How… If there wasn’t intelligent life to build a Table?”
Asulet laughed, harshly. “Blind translations are possible. I know. The success rate is less than five percent. It took five hundred to get the first forty of us here, carrying what little we could, and there were only twenty alive when we cobbled together the first receptor Table.”
Dainyl turned and looked into Asulet’s violet eyes, a violet so deep that it was almost black. He couldn’t imagine attempting that kind of blind translation.
“I was brilliant—and arrogant, Submarshal. Much like you. I paid, and so will you.”
“I’m scarcely brilliant,” Dainyl protested. “It has taken me more years than most to become a Submarshal.”
Asulet laughed. “You may deceive Marshal Shastylt, because he is far more arrogant than either of us, and the arrogant too often see what they wish to see in their subordinates. You may even deceive Zelyert. You cannot deceive me. I would venture to say that your progress has been slow because you do not see things in quite the same fashion as most other alectors. It has also been slow because you have recognized that quality within yourself, and it has made you most cautious. Your shields are among the strongest I have seen, and you show no sign of Talent. That is not possible. That can only mean great Talent, and the ability to listen with both Talent and ears.”
Dainyl managed to keep a pleasant smile upon his face. “You’re most complimentary, but I’m afraid you do me too much honor.”
Asulet laughed easily once more. “I have little interest in who becomes the Marshal of Myrmidons, or the High Alector of Justice. My interest is in seeing Acorus blossom. It will not blossom if too much intellect and Talent, and too much lifeforce, are spent in determining who rules. Already, we run close to the ragged edge. Each time we move to a new world, a little more is lost. More knowledge, more understanding, is lost because some of the brightest are lost, one way or another. Once we could fashion the very cells of our being. Here, we managed to mix together cells to create the life we needed, and that took long years. I have tried to impart my knowledge to a score of those who have come here to learn, and not one has learned all that I have to share. Always, the question is how can that knowledge be used for power. And so, with each transfer of the master scepter, there is more arrogance, more squandering of lifeforce, and fewer alectors. It cannot continue, or we will not continue. That is why I look for strong and cautious alectors. They can be far bolder when necessary and seldom waste energies.” Asulet paused. “Do you know why you have seen this?” He gestured back toward the crystal recesses.
“I doubt I understand all of it, but you are suggesting that life has a much more fragile hold on Acorus than most alectors imagine, and that the effort taken to allow life is far greater than anyone can acknowledge, and has taken far longer than we are told.”
“Exactly.”
“How long?”
“Almost five thousand years.”
“You…?”
Asulet laughed. “I did not live all those years. Many were spent in those recesses, once we set them up. We alternated for centuries, tens of centuries.”
Dainyl looked to the frozen recess, then back to the older alector. He could sense the absolute truth of the other’s words, and that chilled him more than the cold of the preserved past.
75
By the second glass of the afternoon on Londi, Fifteenth Company was set up behind a stone fence, and in the trees of a woodlot a half vingt north of the main entrance to Khalmyn Estate—the home of the eastern seltyr Sheludjyr. For the first day of spring, the day was warm. The white sun cast shadows from the casaran trees to the west onto the shoulder of the road, but was high enough that Mykel did not have to squint when he looked westward.
Blocking the road was an overturned wagon with a Cad-mian uniform tunic lying in the dirt beside a rifle. There were gouges and hoofprints in the road, and the wagon was missing a wheel. The site was some two hundred yards to the north of a gentle curve in the road just sharp enough that a rider could not see the wagon until he had ridden to the end of the curved section.
From the trees, Mykel surveyed the scene. Then he looked at the stone fence five yards in front of him, set several yards back from the shoulder of the road. Second squad was deployed on foot, each man crouching close behind the stones, concealed from those on the road.
Mykel glanced to the south. He could barely hear the sound of hoofs on the dry road, the occasional murmur of voices of the oncoming companies of rebels. While he was certain he and his men were well concealed, for the ambush to be most effective, the column of riders—one company of greencoats and one of bluecoats—needed to get within forty yards of the wagon. He’d debated about the diversion, but had decided to use it, because, with the center of the road blocked, the men riding into the ambush would be more likely to turn back or bunch up around the wagon. He’d also placed more of fourth and fifth squads in the trees in the middle of the curve, so that they would be in a position to fire at any troopers turning and trying to flee.
Mykel continued to wait. Sweat oozed down his back. The sound of hoofs slowly grew louder, as did the voices. Then the first outriders appeared, coming around the last , section of the curve. Neither seemed to notice the wagon until they were only about a hundred yards from it.
“There’s a wagon overturned!” called one.
Words were shouted back, but Mykel could not make them out.
Both riders continued toward the wagon, until they were less than thirty yards from it. Then one reined in, and the other continued northward. He reined in just short of the wagon.
“It’s empty. Lost a wheel, looks like. Wait! There’s a tunic here—and a rifle.” The outrider straightened in the saddle. “Someone left a rifle. Good rifle, too.”
By then, the first squad of the oncoming troopers was through the turn and on the straight section of the road toward the wagon.
“Empty wagon and rifle!” the second outrider called back. “Wagon’s missing a wheel!”
Mykel waited, hoping that the column would keep moving forward.
The leading riders of the first squad had just passed Mykel when the captain riding in the front ordered, “Column! Halt!” He rode forward toward the wagon.
As Mykel had planned, the front of the column slowed, then stopped, while the later riders failed to hear the orders—or did not react as quickly. The spacing between the squads of greencoats narrowed, then vanished. Mykel couldn’t tell what was happening farther back to the south, but the seltyr’s troopers were about as
close as they were likely to get.
“Fire!” ordered Mykel, aiming at the captain in green near the front of the column.
Crack! Crack! Crack!… The initial shots came from out of the trees, where the other squads were arrayed, because they did not have to reveal themselves to fire.
The green captain pitched forward in the saddle.
The next volley came from the stone fence and second squad.
“Return fire!” came a command from somewhere, but few of the riders on the road heard it or heeded it immediately.
One squad leader repeated the order, and had his own rifle out. Mykel aimed and fired, willing his shot home. The squad leader dropped. Mykel kept firing, deliberately, dropping a man with almost every shot. Then he leaned back behind the short-needled pine to reload.
Some of the greencoats bolted northward, but they had to slow to get around the wagon. More were hit, some wounded in arms or legs, others slumping in their saddles or toppling onto the road,
Mykel winced as one second squad trooper slumped over the wall. He turned and fired on a group of greencoats that had formed into a rough line and were firing at second squad. Three went down before the other three wheeled their mounts and withdrew.
Within moments, the road was empty of mounted blue-coats and greencoats, with only the wounded and dead and at least a half score of mounts milling around.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Mykel ordered.
He mounted the chestnut and moved out through one of the openings in the stone wall. “Second squad, mount up!”
“First squad, round up the loose mounts!” Then he rode back southward toward the curve in the road. He had to pick his way around the bodies. At a rough count, there were probably close to sixty, all told.
“Fourth and fifth squads! Mount up and reform! Gather the rifles and ammunition. Leave their wounded.”
He turned the chestnut back northward.
When he neared the wagon, he could see that Gendsyr’s men had managed to get control of more than a half score of the rebel mounts. Several of the second squad rankers were strapping and tying the rifles they had covered to the captured horses. Others had dragged the wagon clear of the road. Mykel looked back, and saw that Bhoral and fourth and fifth squads were formed up and riding northward toward Mykel.
“Squads one, two, and three, mount up! We need to get riding.” While Mykel doubted that the routed rebels would immediately return, he wanted to get moving before they had a chance to regroup and return. If he had had a full battalion at his command, he might well have pursued and captured or eliminated the two rebel companies entirely.
Once Fifteenth Company was riding in good order northward, with both scouts and outriders ahead, and after Mykel had gotten the casualty reports from the squad leaders, he turned the chestnut and rode back to find Bhoral.
“Sir,” acknowledged the senior squad leader, as Mykel eased his mount beside him.
“We didn’t do too badly,” Mykel said. “Two dead and two wounded.”
Bhoral looked at Mykel. “Captain… they didn’t even know what happened.”
“No.” Mykel felt disturbed about that, but he didn’t see that he had that much choice.
“It won’t be too long before they catch on.”
“Probably not, but if we can take on two or three more companies this way, we won’t have to worry about being outnumbered.” Equally important, from Mykel’s point of view, was his hope that the rebel squad leaders and rankers would come to fear the Cadmians.
76
Dainyl stood in a stone-walled chamber. Two sets of double light-torches set five yards apart in bronze brackets on each side wall provided all the illumination. The only furnishing in the chamber was a black oak chest slightly over a yard in height and set against the north wall, equidistant between the light-torches. Nothing was rested on the chest’s shimmering black surface. The sole apparent entry and exit to the Table chamber was through a square arch at the west end of the chamber. There was no door attached to the archway, and a set of stone steps led upward from the chamber. In the center of the chamber was a square stone pedestal that extended a yard above the stone floor. The stone appeared black but did not reflect any illumination from the light-torches. Each side of the tablelike pedestal was three yards in length. The walls and ceiling were all of polished red-stone, and outside of the light-torches, the stone pedestal, and the single chest, the chamber contained no other furnishings or decorations.
Asulet gestured to the stone pedestal. “That is a Table. It does not look terribly prepossessing, but used properly, it is a tool of immeasurable value. Look at it closely, not only with your eyes but with your Talent.”
Dainyl studied the stone pedestal, slowly, carefully. After i moment, he realized that there was a purple glow suffus-ng the Table and emanating from it.
“The Table is actually closer to a cube,” Asulet added. “It attends well below the floor.”
“It’s not solid, is it?”
The older alector smiled. “It is, and it isn’t. The outer ayers are a form of stone. The interior contains certain crystals in a matrix. Once placed and linked to the grid, the natrix is extremely stable—unless one attempts to move he Table. It could last for thousands of years, if not longer.”
“And if someone tries to move it?”
“You wouldn’t want to be anywhere near. The Table stores energy from every use. This Table has been in use for a long time, although it doesn’t get as much use now as do the Tables in Elcien and Ludar.”
“Would it explode?”
“With force enough to collapse the chamber.” Asulet stepped toward the Table, resting a hand on one edge. “Traveling on Acorus is just a local translation, taking the tubes to go from one Table to another. Using the Tables or any translation tube is all mental. It requires the use of Talent and mental vision and positioning to go through the barriers and to find a locator marking another Table, then to break out. Each Table has its own location vector, and every alector sees the shape of the locators slightly differently. Some see the locators as arrows, others as mathematical vector symbols, and still others as triangles.”
“What do I do?” asked Dainyl.
“You step onto the Table, and think about the blackness beneath. You should feel yourself falling into darkness, as cold as anything you have ever felt. Around you, your Talent should show you the various locator arrows. They should seem nearer or farther away by their size, although that is not always a good guide. That is why you should know the color of the locator. Each Table has a different color. The Table here in Lyterna is pink. The one in Elcien is white.”
“Is there a map?”
“Somewhere, but it’s better just to learn the colors.”
“Could I go to Ifryn as well through the Table? By mistake?”
“You’d have to make that mistake on purpose. The long translation tunnels are large purplish tubes, and they feel far away. You can’t sense the locators on Ifryn from here, just as alectors using the Tables on Ifryn cannot sense ours.” Asulet looked sternly at Dainyl. “No matter how experienced you may become with the Tables here, there is always a risk to a long translation. It is a risk not worth taking if you’re already here on Acorus.”
Dainyl understood the unspoken message. Ifryn was dying as too many alectors and too many uses bled the world’s lifeforce away, and what was the use of risking his life to travel to a dying world?
“There is some risk the first time you use a Table,” the older alector admitted. “Once you master the technique, then there’s virtually no risk to travel to any of the other thirteen Tables on Acorus.”
Dainyl wasn’t certain he wanted to try the Table just yet. “What about using the Table to see things?”
“That’s a different technique, and you shouldn’t try that until you’ve mastered traveling.”
“I’ve heard that a Table can’t show anything created through Talent or anyone who can use Talent. Is that true?”
“Generally speaking, yes. An experienced recorder can still often determine what an alector with Talent is doing by watching the surroundings.”
“What about seeing what has already happened?”
“Events fade. Insignificant events, those which do not lpact the lifemass, are impossible to recall with a Table
Lthin glasses, certainly within a day. Others… it depends
1 who is involved, where, when, and the ability of the corder or whoever is using the Table. Never more than a eek, I understand.“
From what Dainyl could sense, Asulet was telling the nth as he knew it.
“Enough of that for now,” said the older alector. “You need to try the Table.”
Dainyl looked at the Table, and the purple glow, visible nly through his Talent, seemed almost ominous. “Is there aything else I should know? Where should I go?” Asulet’s istructions seemed sketchy at best.
“I can’t tell you more, because a Table has to be experienced. Even if I stepped onto the Table with you, the moment we dropped into the dark and cold, you’d be on your own. It is a total solitary experience and you either master it on your own… or you don’t. You’ll have to decide our own destination. The easiest Table to translate to seems to be Tempre. Its locator is a bright blue.” Asulet smiled. “Just step onto the Table and concentrate. When you get to Tempre, wait a while to warm up before you come back.”
The Submarshal stepped up to the Table and brushed it with his fingers. The surface was cool to the touch, but not chilled. Looked at from the side, there was a mirrorlike finish to the surface. He bent over the Table, seeing his own reflection.
Then he took a half step back, studying the Table once more before he half stepped, half jumped, onto it. The surface felt as hard as stone, and there was a chill that seeped through his boots, even though the Table had not been cold to his touch.
Concentrate on the blackness. Asulet had said. Dainyl reached out with his Talent to the Table, and below it, where he sensed a well of darkness. He could feel it rising around him…
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