The mine was back in operation, and guano was being carted down to the port, but that would last only so long as the seltyrs’ forces remained to the north and east of the mine—or if they were destroyed.
Dainyl stood in the study that had belonged to the late Majer Herryf, considering his options. He had to agree with Captain Mykel’s feelings that delay in dealing with the rebels was unwise—that was how the overcaptain had presented it—but Dainyl would have appreciated some message as to how the captain was proceeding. Then… could Dohark—and the captain himself—have overestimated Mykel’s abilities and underestimated those of the rebels? That had already occurred with two other Cadmian captains—and landers did have a tendency to think they were more able than they in fact were.
There was a knock at the study door.
Dainyl turned to see Captain Meryst standing there.
“Submarshal, sir?”
Dainyl motioned for him to enter. Meryst did, his eyes reluctantly meeting those of the Myrmidon. Dainyl could sense the apprehension there.
“You have something to tell me, Captain?” Dainyl remained standing, looking down at the junior officer.
“Yes, sir.” Meryst squared his shoulders slightly. “We got some information from one of the squad leaders. His younger brother brought it this morning.”
Dainyl waited.
“A company of Cadmians rode into the grounds of the grower Fhezart yesterday afternoon. There were some men in blue there. The Cadmians pulled up into a line and began shooting. Then they rode after those who hadn’t been shot and cut them down with sabres. After that, they burned the place.”
“All the buildings?” asked Dainyl.
Ah… no, sir. Just the villa. They left the other buildings. They took all the weapons and ammunition and some supplies and put them in their wagons. Then they rode off. They left the bodies where they fell.“
“Captain Mykel, I would say. Where is this grower located?”
“East-southeast of Enstyla, forty vingts from here.”
Dainyl nodded.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“People are going to be upset at that. You just don’t ride in and shoot people.”
The Submarshal tilted his head slightly. He said nothing.
Meryst shifted his weight from one boot to the other and back again. He did not speak.
After the silence had drawn out, Dainyl cleared his throat. “Let me see if I understand the reasoning behind this. The locals revolt against the Code and against the Duarches. They obtain contraband weapons, and they ambush and destroy two companies of Cadmians. They use some sort of subterfuge to poison and kill a third of the Cadmians in the compound. Then they assault the compound. Captain Mykel follows some of them, catches them off guard, and shoots them. He rides down others and kills them, too. He does not burn the entire estate, but only the villa belonging to those who sheltered the rebels. What the rebels did was acceptable, but what he did is not? Can you explain that to me, Captain?”
“They feel that they are defending their land, sir.” Meryst stiffened.
“Convenient rationale,” Dainyl replied dryly. “Buy or take the land from those who once had it. Because you now hold it, that entitles you to revolt against those who made having the land possible, and to use any method at all. Those who are upholding the Code, of course, can only attack the armed men who are revolting under certain ‘honorable’ conditions.” He looked hard at Meryst. “Dramur would not exist were it not for the Duarches. The seltyrs would have nothing. The Code makes that quite clear. They have broken the Code. They are not entitled to even the consideration that Captain Mykel has offered. I strongly suggest that you recall that, Captain.” Dainyl forced himself to relax and to smile understandingly. “I appreciate the information, and I very much appreciate your conveying it to me. I realize that, as someone raised here in Dramur, this entire revolt places you in a most difficult situation. It puts us all in that situation, in different ways, and I trust you understand that. You do not wish to be involved in this. Neither do I, Captain. I ask you to remember one thing. All the seltyrs had to do… was nothing. No one was taking anything from them. No one raised their tariffs. The only real problem was that prisoners were escaping from the mine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now”—Dainyl shrugged—“we have to do the best we can, and the best course is to crush resistance as quickly and absolutely as possible. Unless the seltyrs surrender unconditionally and immediately, I intend to do so.”
“They will not do that, sir.”
“That is unfortunate.” Dainyl nodded. “Thank you, again.”
“Yes, sir. By your leave, sir.”
“You may go.”
Dainyl watched the captain leave. He could sense the anger and the frustration, but nothing Dainyl could have said would have eliminated either. What bothered Dainyl most was the fact that he’d had to mislead the captain. Either the Highest or the marshal had appealed to the greed and fear of the seltyrs and arranged for them to receive contraband weapons, suggesting that they would need them. With the arrival of Majer Vaclyn and his heavy-handed ways, the seltyrs began to prepare, and the Cadmians had reacted to that. In turn, the seltyrs had reacted to the Cadmians, and now Dainyl had no options but to finish what Captain Mykel had begun—because he certainly couldn’t reveal the duplicity and schemes of the marshal and the Highest. Not and survive. There was also no point in revealing those schemes until he was in a position to do something about them, because, until he had some power over the marshal and the Highest, or some hard proof to submit to the Duarches, all he would accomplish would be his own demise.
His lips tightened. After a moment, he shook his head. He walked to the peg on the wall, took down his flying jacket, and donned it, walking quickly from the study and the headquarters building out into the courtyard.
Quelyt was waiting beside his pteridon, the one wearing the second saddle for the day, since he had the duty. “Submarshal?”
“Are you ready to fly?”
“Yes, sir. Where to?” After a pause, the Myrmidon asked, “Do you need us both?”
“Not today. We’ll see if we can find our missing Cadmian company. Yesterday, they were some forty vingts to the northeast. They’ll be moving to the northwest.”
“Anything we’re looking for?”
“When we get to the northeast, a burned out villa. There won’t be much smoke. It was burned yesterday.”
“Could be some,” Quelyt suggested. “It’s clear enough we might be able to see it.” He finished checking the saddles and harnesses, then slipped into the forward saddle.
Dainyl mounted behind him and adjusted the straps.
With a burst of Talent energy, the pteridon leapt into the light wind, wings spread, and began to climb, barely clearing the eastern wall of the compound. Quelyt continued eastward directly into the wind for another vingt before turning northward.
As the pteridon carried the two Myrmidons northward, Dainyl studied the narrow roads. There were no large groups of riders on the roads, no lines of wagons, no large pillars of smoke climbing skyward, and no Talent-sense of the ancients—or of anything else except the pteridon. He couldn’t help but worry about the ancient soarers. With only an understrength Cadmian battalion and two pteridons, if he were to put down the revolt quickly, he didn’t need any interference from the soarers.
After slightly more than a glass, Dainyl caught sight of a black patch in an open area, farther to the east than the course on which he had directed Quelyt.
“To the right!” he called forward. ‘To that black spot.“
The pteridon made a gentle, banked turn eastward. The crystal beak pointed directly at the black spot. As they drew nearer, Dainyl could see faint lines of thin smoke still rising from the blackened mass. He could also see that only one building had been burned.
“Follow the road to the east of the burned villa—the one that heads north.”
Again,
Quelyt turned the pteridon.
They had traced the course of the road, at an altitude of around two hundred yards, for less than a half glass when Dainyl sensed Talent, the same sort of greenish force that he associated with the ancients—yet it was not the same, not exactly. The Talent-trace vanished before he could pinpoint it, although it was generally to the northwest.
“Turn more to the northwest.”
“Coming northwest, sir.”
Another quarter glass passed before Quelyt turned in his saddle. “Fighting up ahead, sir. South side of that long valley.”
“Drop a little and get your lance ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
The pteridon lost another hundred yards and continued | westward almost down the center of the valley that the Cad-mians had patrolled for the arms smugglers. Below to the left was the road that ran along the top of the bluff forming the south side of the valley.
Dainyl sensed another flash of greenish Talent, far closer, and he leaned to the left, studying the road, making out two mounted forces. Even from two hundred yards above, Dainyl could make out the difference in uniforms between the maroon and gray of the Cadmians and the bright blue and green of the rebels.
“A little lower!”
As Quelyt swept down, Dainyl could see that whatever the Cadmians had done, the rebels were getting the worst of it and were breaking off the fight. J
“Circle back and flame the riders in blue, the ones riding I eastward and trying to escape!” I
“Yes, sir!” A grim satisfaction filled Quelyt’s voice. I
Dainyl could also see a handful of rebels riding west- I ward, but those would have to wait. i
The pteridon banked steeply and dropped into a dive, centering itself on the road and coming down to less than fifty yards above the road as Quelyt aimed the skylance.
A long burst of blue flame flared over the more than two squads of riders, and then the pteridon was past the section of road that held only soot and ashes.
“There were some rebels headed west,” Dainyl said.
“We can get them, too.”
This time Quelyt climbed slightly before bringing the pteridon into another tightly banked turn that brought the pteridon onto a westward heading. They swept over the Cadmians and in moments were closing on the fleeing rebels. A quick burst from the skylance was enough.
“Now what, sir?”
“Can you set us down somewhere west of the Cadmians?”
“Need a wider place, sir. Let’s see.”
Yet another tight turn followed.
“Right at the road junction,” Quelyt finally said. “Plenty of room there.”
The pteridon flared and landed on the road. A brief cloud of dust rose, then began to settle.
“You stay mounted. Keep the skylance ready,” Dainyl ordered. “I need to talk to the captain.”
“We can do that, Submarshal.”
Dainyl unfastened the harnesses and dropped to the road. His legs buckled slightly for a moment. He supposed he’d never again get as used to flying as he had been as a full time flying Myrmidon. After stepping well away from Quelyt and the pteridon, Dainyl waited for the captain. He kept a pleasant smile on his face as Captain Mykel rode toward him, hard as it was. The bare hint of a greenish aura surrounded the captain, the unmistakable sign of emerging Talent. Stronger Talent would have blared forth or been hidden behind shields. He should deal with the captain immediately, or soon, at least.
Yet… Mykel was the only captain in the battalion who seemed to know what he was doing and who was able to do it. Dainyl had been ordered to end the revolt quickly, and ending it would take longer, perhaps far longer, without the captain.
Mykel reined up a good three yards back from the sub-marshal. He inclined his head in respect. His uniform was bloody, and one arm was roughly bound.
“Captain Mykel.”
“Colonel…” The captain paused. “I’m sorry, sir… have you… do the stars mean you’re a marshal?”
“Submarshal.”
“Yes, sir. Submarshal.”
“You seem to have been most effective in dealing with the rebels,” Dainyl offered.
“You and the pteridon were more effective, sir.”
“It’s going to take both Myrmidons and Cadmians. I heard that you attacked a company yesterday while they were in bivouac on an estate. Was that report accurate?”
“There were two companies. We killed more than a company. The rest scattered. I had the villa burned. Not the outbuildings. That would have hurt the retainers more than anyone else.”
“Was pursuing the rebels your idea or Overcaptain Dohark’s?”
Mykel smiled uneasily. “I requested permission to undertake the pursuit after they had attacked the compound. Overcaptain Dohark granted my request.”
“With some trepidation, I would wager.” Dainyl laughed.
“Sir… you’d have to ask the overcaptain about that.”
“I did. He was worried about losing Fifteenth Company. Did you think about that?”
“Yes, sir. Every time we’ve lost badly has been when we fought on their terms. Sitting and waiting would have been fighting on their terms.”
“What would you suggest now, Captain?”
For the first time, Mykel looked uncertain. He did not answer immediately.
Dainyl waited.
“If… if Third Battalion were up to full strength, I’d keep pursuing until we wiped them out or until they made a stand.”
“So would I,” Dainyl said. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Two Myrmidons with skylances will help.” He studied the captain. His Talent was still intermittent and unfocused, and he might not even be aware of what he was doing. Dealing with the captain could wait. The rebels could not.
92
Late on Novdi evening, Mykel sat on a sagging and backless pine bench outside yet another grower’s stable—where, this time, Mykel had taken the tack room with its single narrow bunk for his own. This grower had been on his lands, and he had explained that he had not backed the rebels and wanted no trouble. He had been telling the truth, and Mykel had told the man that he wanted no trouble either, just fodder and some food and shelter, and that Fifteenth Company would be leaving in the morning.
Mykel looked from the dark main house, its shutters fastened tight despite the warmth of the evening, toward Bho-ral, who sat on a sawed-off log set on end across from his captain.
“Colonel—the Submarshal—talked to you for a long time,” observed the senior squad leader.
“He did. We’ll be getting messengers regularly now. He might even drop messages by the pteridons.”
“Glad to see that they finally decided to use the Myrmidons,” Bhoral said.
“I have the feeling that the Submarshal wanted to all along,” Mykel replied. “He said he was recalled, and that there had been some changes made.”
“Made him Submarshal for one.” Bhoral shifted his weight on the log. The planks underneath creaked slightly. “You think his plan will work?”
“We don’t have to do anything but what we’ve been doing.”
“Not until we get them all bunched up. If they gather their forces. You think they will?”
“That part seems likely,” mused Mykel. “We’ve already proved that they can’t stand against us if they’re separated. Once they’re together, the Myrmidons can fly in.”
“They have to know that—after this afternoon.”
“They might, but who will tell them? I didn’t see any survivors,” Mykel pointed out. “We could have burned the bodies.”
Bhoral pulled at his chin. “Don’t know as I’d count on it.”
“What else can they do?”
“They could hide and wait.”
Mykel laughed, a sound ironic and rueful. “You and I could hide and wait. The seltyrs have based everything on their power. They can’t wait, not if they want to remain seltyrs.” He couldn’t help but think of the legacy he had left in Jyoha.
There, the people had learned exactly what could be done against arrogant and unprepared power. Mykel hadn’t meant to teach them that, but he had, however inadvertently, and that was something else that might change the future of Dramur—one way or another.
“They could still dig in someplace, where there are caves, holes, rocks, and make us come get them,” Bhoral said.
“The Submarshal expects that. He thinks that, if we push them in the right way, they’ll move into the rocky ground some twenty vingts north of the mine. There’s a forest in front, with big pine trees, the kind that the Myrmidons can’t use those flame lances through, but the trees are far enough apart for mounts underneath. They can retreat upslope to a cliff with caves.”
“We’re going to do that, with one company?”
“He’s going to put Rhystan in charge of an oversized i company, what’s left of Fourteenth and Sixteen Companies. They’ll push from the south.”
“We’ll still have to lose men digging them out.”
“The Submarshal says that he and the Myrmidons can take care of that part. Our job is to whittle them down and get them into the open or into the caves.”
“Coldhearted bastard, isn’t he?”
“You could say that.” Mykel didn’t see that Submarshal Dainyl was any more coldhearted than Mykel himself had been recently—or than the seltyrs had been more than a few times. “Better coldhearted than hotheaded.”
“Suppose so. I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but it’s better than what we faced without the Myrmidons.” Mykel stood and stretched.
“We going to push tomorrow?”
“No. It’ll take Rhystan another day to get far enough north. We’re supposed to move west and north some, and make sure that we’re seen—and not get ambushed or lose any men. If there’s a small group or company, and I think we have a solid edge, we can attack.” Mykel snorted. “That’s not likely.”
“No, sir. Everyone knows we’re here. Either find five companies on our doorstep, or none in a half score of vingts.” Bhoral yawned and rose from his log stool. “Going to check the sentries. See you in the morning, sir.”
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