Legacies

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  'Where is your grandsire?" called Lucenda from the kitchen as Alucius headed for the washroom after hanging up his jacket on a peg in the back hall and using the boot brush.

  'He's talking to Kustyl out by the sheds."

  'Have to hold supper, then."

  Alucius could hear both his mother and grandmother chuckling.

  They were both seated at the kitchen table when Alucius joined them. The big iron stove exuded a welcome warmth, and the rich scent of a spiced beef stew and the smell of biscuits filled the room.

  'Might as well sit down at the table, Alucius," suggested Lucenda. "I poured a glass of ale for you."

  'Thank you." Alucius sat down on the side, opposite his mother, who had her chair turned so that she could get up easily. He took a slow and small swallow of the ale. "Tastes good."

  'How did they handle the weather?" asked Veryl.

  'Some of them—Lamb and some of the rams—prefer the cooler weather."

  'Doesn't look like it's raining much," Lucenda observed.

  'Just a mist. We could use more, especially out toward the plateau. Not much in the way of new growth out there. Could hurt their winter coats."

  'And we'll be paying for that come spring," Veryl pointed out.

  'We might get some rain," Alucius said. "Clouds were getting darker, even before dusk."

  'Best we hope so."

  The thump of a closing door announced Royalt's entering the house through the north porch door. Shortly, the three heard the sound of the hand pump in the washroom, and then Royalt walked into the kitchen.

  'What did Kustyl want?" asked Lucenda.

  'He was stopping by on his way back from town," Royalt said, settling into the chair at the head of the table. "Just stopped to talk for a moment."

  'Kustyl never stops just to talk." Lucenda pointed out.

  'You didn't invite him for supper?" Veryl rose from the table and turned to the stove.

  'Asked him. He said Mairee would have his hide if she made supper and he didn't get there to eat it. Said he was already late and too old for two suppers." Royalt grinned. "What are we having?"

  'Stew, from the beef shoulder we had last night." Lucenda eased the basket of biscuits onto the table.

  'Better than mutton."

  'Mutton's good," Alucius said. "If we don't have it too often."

  'That's true of anything. Absence sharpens the appeal." Royalt grinned.

  Lucenda shook her head.

  Veryl turned. "Alucius… if you would… Then I'll just serve from the stove. Be hotter that way."

  Alucius glanced at his grandsire, then began. "In the name of the One Who Is…"

  After the supper prayer, and the serving of the stew into the big bowls, there was silence for a time, before Royalt cleared his throat and set down his big spoon. "The Reillies hit two steads south of Soulend. That's what Kustyl said."

  'How bad was it?" asked Lucenda.

  'Wiped out everyone at the first. Second was ready. Lost some of their stock, but no one was hurt."

  'Do you think they'll be headed south?" Lucenda held her glass of ale without drinking.

  'Kustyl doesn't think so. They wouldn't try that until they've taken the softer steads to the north, and that wouldn't be till midwinter at the earliest. They also might just move north."

  'Hard life there," Veryl pointed out. "They'd not like that."

  'No. But the Matrites are moving into their western reaches, and we'll be raising more for the militia here. Better a hard life than none."

  'Hope for their sake they see that way," replied Veryl.

  'I'm not that charitable," Lucenda said. "The Reillies are reaping what they've sowed."

  'That may be, daughter," Royalt replied, "but we could get caught in that terrible harvest."

  Like his grandsire, Alucius wondered if they would. Or how long the Matrites would hold off. Another half year—or year?

  As the grays pulled the wagon southward toward Iron Stem in the early summer morning, under a clear silver-green sky, Alucius looked to the west, then to the east, sending out his Talent-senses as far as he could, but he couldn't discover anything except the distant red-violet of a sander and the muted gray-violet of a sandwolf—and, of course, the looming sense of the Aerial Plateau to the northeast, and its dead-metal feel. With not a single tree anywhere around, not until they reached Iron Stem, which had but a handful, the plateau always dominated the eastern horizon.

  'Grandfather's worried," Alucius said, his eyes still on the road ahead. "More worried than he's been in years."

  'Why do you think so?" asked his mother.

  'The water barrels we're picking up. The only use for them is if we have to retreat to the armory or the hidden retreat off the cellar."

  'He wants to be prepared. In another few weeks, you'll be eighteen. Some time after that, you'll be called into the militia. He's not going to want to leave the stead as much once you're gone. He's even talked about hiring Tynan's second-oldest grandson to help."

  Alucius nodded. He understood. If his grandfather left the stead, with his grandmother's slow weakening—something Alucius could do nothing about—that left only his mother able to handle a rifle. "I worry about you and Grandfather and Grandma'am."

  'We managed before, and we can do it now," his mother replied.

  'I'm sure you can, Mother." He offered a smile.

  The road was empty of other travelers until they had almost reached the green tower before the Pleasure Palace, when four riders in the black and green of the Iron Valleys Militia rode past.

  The lead rider nodded to Lucenda. "Morning, Madame Lucenda."

  'Good morning, Delar. Are you patrolling?"

  'No, ma'am. We were running dispatches to the Council. We're heading back to the new outpost on the midroad west of Soulend."

  'Have a good trip."

  'Thank you, ma'am," returned Delar.

  Alucius waited until the militia riders were well behind them before speaking. "New outpost on the midroad? Grandfather didn't mention that."

  'He might not know," she pointed out. "We can tell him when we get back."

  Even with as little experience as he had, Alucius understood what setting up new outposts meant, especially given the Council's tightness with coin. "I'm sure he'll want to know."

  Lucenda nodded, but did not speak on it more as Alucius drove toward Iron Stem.

  The town itself was quiet, as if it were winter rather than early summer, with the shutters on many dwellings closed, although the late morning was pleasant enough, with a light breeze out of the southeast.

  Alucius studied the stone-paved expanse of the market square. There were but a handful of carts there, far fewer than normal, even for the time of year. "There ought to be more…"

  'Everyone's hoarding," Lucenda said. "Maybe not everyone, but enough so that the growers don't have to travel north to Iron Stem."

  'Because they're worried about the Reillies and the other brigands?"

  'And because the Council in Dekhron is conscripting more young men, and people worry about planting and harvesting with fewer to help."

  Alucius nodded, then turned the team to the right and eased both team and wagon into place on the side lane beside the loading dock of Kyrial's shop. He set the wagon brakes, and then jumped down and knotted the restraint lines to the stone hitching post. He turned to offer a hand to his mother, but she had already jumped down from the wagon and was waiting for him.

  They walked into the cooper's shop, with its scent of freshly planed and sawed wood.

  'Lucenda, Alucius! It's good to see you." Kyrial set down a chisel and walked away from the larger workbench set against the inside wall and toward them.

  Before her father could reach the two, Wendra slipped out of the back room. She gave a broad smile to Alucius, then rushed forward and hugged him. "Father said you'd be in this week. I've been watching."

  'Watching more than working at times," commented Kyrial. Their kiss was sho
rt—and proper. Wendra stepped back, but continued to hold Alucius's hand.

  'I'd better load the barrels first," Alucius said. "You load the barrels, and then I'll walk over to the square and see what there is in the way of early produce. You can spend some time with your intended. Soarers know, you've not had that much together." Lucenda smiled as she finished.

  Kyrial laughed. "After that, we might get some work out of them." "I remember a certain cooper's apprentice and the apple barrels…" Lucenda said, teasingly.

  Kyrial shook his head. "None of you will ever let that lie." "It's too good a tale, Kyrial, and you need to be reminded that you were young once, too."

  Alucius caught the underlying sadness behind his mother's words, understanding that—unlike the cooper—she had had her youthful love cut far too short.

  'Your barrels are the ones by the door there, the ones with the smooth finish," Kyrial said.

  Alucius released Wendra's hand. "I'll open the loading door for you," she said. Somehow, it didn't take Alucius all that long to load all five barrels into the back of the wagon and strap them in place. By then, his mother was crossing the square, and Kyrial was back at work on the small lorken quarter-barrel that was probably for Gortal.

  The back room was empty, and Alucius followed Wendra up the stairs to the rear parlor. He glanced around the room, but it was empty, and the door to the main living quarters was closed.

  Wendra smiled. "Mother's at the miller's right now, and Korcler's at Aunt Emylin's." She slipped into his arms.

  Their second embrace and kiss were considerably less than proper, for which Alucius was most grateful.

  'I missed you," Wendra whispered.

  'Missed you," he murmured back, still holding her tightly.

  'Not as much as I missed you."

  'I don't know about that."

  'I can tell." There was the slightest of laughs.

  They kissed again, then hung on to each other for a long time.

  Abruptly, if gently, Wendra eased out of his arms, and eased toward the window, standing before the open shutters, the faded white curtains lifting almost to touch her face in the light and intermittent breeze.

  'What is it?" he asked. "Did I do something…?"

  'No." Her voice was low. "It's not you."

  'Are you sure?" Alucius didn't sense any anger, but worry… apprehension.

  'It's just… it's only a few weeks before you turn eighteen, Alucius." Wendra remained by the window. "They say…"Wendra turned from the window to face him, but her eyes did not quite meet his. "They say that all of you who turned eighteen this summer will be conscripted and sent to training a week after the beginning of harvest season."

  'Who said that?"

  'Yuren's sister told me that yesterday. He's a dispatch rider for the militia now." She paused. "What will we do?"

  'What we must," Alucius replied. "I serve my time in the militia, and you work, and serve your time, and when I get out of the militia, we get married and run a stead."

  'You… make it sound so… easy."

  He shook his head. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just… what else can we do?"

  'Don't you feel trapped? It doesn't matter what we feel. It doesn't matter what we want. You have to serve in the militia, and I'll have to work and wait… and hope."

  Alucius swallowed. "I don't want to trap you. If… if you feel that way… I won't… I can't… make you wait."

  Wendra's eyes brightened. "Are you… telling me…?"

  'No! I'm saying that I love you. I'm saying… that I don't have a choice, but I wouldn't want you to feel bound to me… not if you don't want to be." He stepped forward and put his arms around her.

  'You do love me, don't you?"

  'I told you that, my lady. I want you to be mine, now and… until the soarers no longer fly, until the trees return to the Iron Valleys… until…"

  Wendra's lips found his for another long and lingering kiss.

  'Just hold me," she finally said.

  Alucius did.

  East of Harmony, Madrien

  Under trie bright stiver afternoon sky, a squad of heavy foot held formation around a shimmering hexagonal device set on the back of a wagon. The wagon had its wheels blocked in place on a knoll overlooking a meadow below. From the device projected a green-tinged crystalline barrel. The front third of the wagon held a hopper filled with sand. Three other wagons, also filled with sand, were lined up to the west.

  The Matrite Fifth Horse Company remained out of sight on the back of the hill to the south side of the midroad, while the Fourth and Fifth Foot remained hidden in the trees above the steeper incline on the north. In the valley below the knoll was a thin line of cavalry, troopers spread well apart and riding slowly eastward. Farther to the east, amid the scrub oak and scattered pines, were shadowy figures of mounted raiders.

  Hyalas stood in the wagon next to the control panel of the device. Beside him waited another man, also in brown, and also wearing a silver torque and holding a shovel. Mounted on a black stallion beside the wagon was a tall and lanky woman, wearing the crimson and green of Madrien, as well as the crescent moon insignia of an arms commander.

  Hyalas adjusted the mechanism.

  'I would appreciate it, Engineer Hyalas," suggested the arms commander, "if you would be ready to use your device before the barbarians decide to turn and run."

  'It is almost ready, honored Vergya. I did suggest that it be improved before it was brought to the field."

  From the saddle on the black stallion, the tall Vergya laughed. "Best you keep such sentiments between us, Engineer. The Matrial is not known for her humor." The arms-commander nodded to the bugler mounted beside her.

  A series of notes rang out across the hill.

  The troopers in the valley below turned their mounts, and an officer yelled, "Back! We're outnumbered. Back to the road."

  Even before the Madrien troopers had completed their turn, mounted riders wearing a plaid of yellow and black burst out of the brush and pines, galloping toward the outnumbered Madrien troopers. The Madrien forces spurred their mounts into a full gallop westward.

  On the knoll above, Hyalas sighted and then pulled the lever with the green knob slowly downward, listening as the humming of the device rose into a high-pitched whine, and then seemed to cease. For several moments, nothing happened.

  Then… miniature crystalline spears seemed to form a yard beyond the crystal muzzle of the device, then blurred outward in a spraying pattern, moving so quickly that each looked more like a focused sunbeam rather than a crystal projectile.

  The spray of crystal struck the left side of the oncoming barbarians, and the riders disintegrated into a pinkish spray. Hyalas began to spin the wheel on the side of the device so that the muzzle slowly moved to the right, and with it, the shimmering line of crystal destruction.

  Behind him, his assistant continued to feed the sand into the hopper at the rear of the device, and the crystal storm of destruction scythed across the plain below, leveling mounts and men alike—even some of the laggards among the retreating Madrien troopers—until the few remaining barbarians rode or crawled beyond the range of the deadly device.

  A handful of men in yellow-and-black worried their way eastward and back over the hill.

  Hyalas eased the green lever back into the unpowered position.

  'Most effective, Engineer," the arms-commander called. "I trust it will work as well against the forces of the Iron Valleys and the Southern Guards of Lanachrona."

  'I do not know about those of the Iron Valleys. It will be less effective against the Southern Guards because their armor will shield them somewhat." Hyalas paused. "That is not quite right. It will be just as effective against those with armor, but it will take longer, because the armor will stop many of the crystal spears. There are so many spears that no armor will shield a man for more than a few moments, but I will have to track along the line of attack more slowly."

  'It is too bad we do not h
ave another," observed Vergya.

  'The ancients built but one, and the records say that only one can operate at one time, anywhere in Corus."

  'Still… if we did not fight our battles at the same time, it would be useful to have one in the south and one here."

  'I can see that, honored Vergya. It would take much time and effort to construct another, and that is a decision not made by a lowly Engineer."

  'I will speak to the Matrial. Then we will see." Vergya smiled. "Truly a lovely weapon. Yet we must be careful not to overuse it, or we will have fewer new recruits."

  Hyalas nodded deferentially.

  In the twilight of a late summer day, after he had said good night to everyone, Alucius sat on the end of his bed, thinking. He was already eighteen, and he had heard nothing about the militia. So far as he knew, neither had his grandsire or his mother, although he could sense the growing tension in both. Then, if Wendra were right, he might not hear anything until close to the beginning of harvest. He froze, hearing a murmur from the kitchen, then strained to make out the words.

  '… should tell him… at least, let him have his guard…"

  '… too dangerous for him… especially… has the hair…"

  Too dangerous? What was too dangerous? Alucius eased down the ladder, trying to be as quiet as possible, and along the side of the hall. His mother and grandfather were sitting at the kitchen table. His grandmother had already slipped off to bed.

  Standing in the shadows on the other side of the archway, Alucius listened.

  '… Council's offer to let us buy out Alucius's conscription," said Royalt, his voice low. "We still have to decide… applies to all holders, but… costly."

  'I've told you what I think. We could handle it." Lucenda's voice was hopeful.

  'It's high—half the golds from each year's sale of nightsilk for the three years…"

  On the other side of the archway, Alucius winced. That much would destroy the holding.