Alucius watched as the rider went out through the gates alone. As the echo of hoofbeats on stone died away, Alucius crossed the courtyard and made his way up along the narrow and unrailed stone steps onto the top of the western wall of Eltema Post. Like all the walls of the post, it was unguarded, an undefended rampart that—unlike the gates and the southern wall—felt ancient. He wondered if the old wall had been part of a Duarchial outpost that had been later restored and rebuilt when the Matrite post had been constructed.
He stood there in the silence, first looking back down at the courtyard and the orderly buildings within the wall, each structure in its place, from the massive domed indoor riding arena to the overlarge training building.
Then he turned to watch the sun, just setting, moving until he stood against the smooth redstone parapet. From there he looked out across Hieron, first to the north, then the west, and finally to the south. In the fading orange light, under a darkening silver-green sky, the stones of the buildings glowed as if by an internal amber illumination of their own, but that illumination faded as did the sun, if more slowly, as though the stone had caught and delayed the departure of the sunlight.
Once the sun had dropped completely below the western horizon, and as the twilight darkened, Alucius looked westward, not just with his eyes, but with his Talent, trying to sense all that he could.
The weave of color assaulted him, and he staggered, putting out a hand and steadying himself on the wall. Fine pink threads from everywhere converged on the Matrial's residence, so much so that the grounds seemed lit with a purplish pink light. The pinkish cast was unseen and unfelt, he knew, except to those who could see it with Talent, but that was the first impression that swept over Alucius. The second impression was one of a subtle weave that filled the entire darkening skies, the warp and weft of life webs that seemed to intertwine, and yet never touch. Against the soft and warm and subtle and living web, the purplish pink was shudderingly wrong, an oppressive web spinning out of the Matrial's residence, rather than the tapestry of life formed by the softer life webs.
Could he do anything about that pink web? Was that what the wood-spirit had alluded to? And why him? Surely, others had seen what he was seeing. He couldn't have been the first herder, the first Talented man seeing what he saw. Or could he?
He repressed a shiver.
Then he straightened and studied the pinkish threads of that web again. Perhaps… perhaps if he could do something about it, difficult as it seemed, it might make his escape far easier.
He paused. Was that the problem? All he had been thinking was about escape, and, just as the pinkish web felt wrong, so did the idea of mere escape. Yet… what could he do?
Enter the Matrial's grounds? He'd been discovered by the first Talent-officer he'd run across, and surely there would be more experienced guards or officers with Talent surrounding the Matrial. Then, would anyone expect anything from a lowly squad leader in uniform?
He could escape… without doing anything. He could remove his own torque and ride to the northeast, and with what he knew, it would be hard for anyone to find him or catch him. But… he would know. And if he ever did return to the stead, on all the rides below the plateau, he would indeed recall that he had seen true evil and turned away.
He looked back at the Matrial's grounds—and the shocking wrong-ness of the purplish pink spider web that so few could see. He studied the interweaving and converging threads for a long time… until true deep evening fell across the city. Then, he took a long and slow deep breath, before turning and taking the narrow stone steps back down to the courtyard.
The rifle training came late in the afternoon, which made a sort of sense to Alucius, because most of the time, troopers weren't fresh when they had to use their weapons—at least that had been his experience, both in the militia and with the Matrite horse.
In his second day as an instructor, Alucius watched as the trainees filed into their positions on the range. A Matrite rifle was laid out at each firing position, already loaded. That was one of the setup chores that went with being an instructor. In addition to Alucius and Heltyn, there was an undercaptain—Jynagn—who sat in a raised booth above and behind the trainees, and who had enough Talent to stun or kill any trainee who turned a rifle in any direction besides the targets. Alucius made very certain he used no overt Talent around Jynagn, although he could still passively sense strong feelings and the world around him. Also, he suspected he was far more adept than she was, but there was little point in trying to determine that. But she was one of the very few officers he had seen who had more than just a trace of Talent. His experience had made it clear to him that there were not that many women with Talent, and all of those he had seen served the Matrial in one capacity or another—although he had heard or read nothing that would support that conclusion.
In addition to the undercaptain, there were also ten regular troopers and two spotters, also troopers, who watched the targets, replaced them, and moved them once each rotation was completed. The non-spotting troopers were each assigned to watch a trainee and count the shots. The trainees fired from a prone position, for a number of rea sons, one being that it made it much harder to turn the rifle on the instructors.
During the initial rotation, Alucius noted an older trainee who consistently missed the targets, even at the closer range. Once all trainees had fired their first ten rounds, he eased up behind the man. "You've been using a militia rifle, haven't you?"
'Yes, sir." The trainee looked down at the ground, not meeting Alucius's eyes.
Alucius could sense the man had trouble with understanding Mad-rien, and switched to his own native language for the next question. "What's your name?"
'Zerdial, sir."
'Zerdial… the Matrite rifle is lighter. You can see and feel that. The cartridges are smaller, and the weapon doesn't kick as much. You're reacting as if this were a heavier weapon even before you squeeze the trigger. Hold it firmly, but don't wrestle it, and squeeze the trigger slowly, especially until you get the feel of it. You want the trigger pressure to be firm but so even that you don't know the exact moment when the firing pin hits the cartridge. That way, you won't jerk the weapon."
'Yes, sir."
Personally, Alucius suspected the man had had the same trouble with the militia rifles, but the explanation might get him to relax enough to concentrate on the target and not on the rifle.
'… speaks both tongues…"muttered one of the trainees under his breath.
'A number of squad leaders do," Alucius said loudly. "They also hear well. You're supposed to be concentrating on marksmanship, not on the language abilities of your instructors."
Someone gulped..
Heltyn looked up from the end of the line of trainees and grinned.
Alucius smiled back at the other squad leader, even as he made a mental note of the Iron Valley captive trainee's name—Zerdial—before he moved to the next trainee.
After Alucius and Heltyn had offered comments to those they thought needed them, one of the nonspotting troopers walked down the firing line, handing each trainee ten cartridges.
'Reload now!" commanded Heltyn from the far end of the firing line.
Every trainee was watched to see that every cartridge went into the rifle magazine.
Alucius caught a feeling of apprehension from the fourth trainee, the one after Zerdial.
'If I were you…" Alucius fumbled mentally for a moment for a name, "Kasta, I'd finish reloading that magazine. The undercaptain might get very upset if you only fired nine shots. So would I." Even if it weren't for exactly the same reason, Alucius noted to himself.
'Yes, sir. I was just slow, sir."
'You're lying," snapped the undercaptain from above.
Kasta twitched and stiffened. Alucius could sense the pinkish power in the torque, but the undercaptain released her hold before the trainee lost consciousness.
Kasta coughed, as if he were choking.
'Get that cartridge in th
e magazine, Kasta," Heltyn ordered.
Kasta started to swing the rifle toward the older squad leader. Then his whole body twitched, and went limp.
'Trainees! Leave your weapons on the pad. On your feet. Any man who touches a weapon is dead!"
Nine men stood up empty-handed. From the void that swept over Alucius, he knew that Kasta wouldn't ever stand up again.
Alucius could sense Heltyn's anger—and frustration.
The older squad leader waited a long moment before speaking. "You men are being given a chance. It's a chance at a far better life than most of you ever had. For those for whom it's not, it's another chance at a productive life. Kasta was stupid enough to think that he was smarter than squad leaders who've seen more than most of you ever will and officers who can kill you with a single gesture." He paused. "You've got a good half glass before practice is over. You're not going to practice. You're going to stand there and think about just how stupid a trick like Kasta's was. Then you're going to carry him back to the barracks. Now! Not a word!"
Alucius could also sense the satisfaction from the undercaptain above. Not glee, but satisfaction that a wrongdoer had been punished. Alucius knew Kasta hadn't been a wrongdoer, just a stupid young man who'd been arrogant enough not to realize his own limits.
Both he and Heltyn watched the trainees like eagles until they were marched out, carrying a dead body.
Only then did Heltyn walk from the other end of the firing line.
'How did you know?"
Alucius shrugged. "There was just something… it wasn't right, and after a while you have to trust those feelings."
Heltyn nodded. "That's what separates the squad leaders who live from those who don't. Anyone can act right when they know. It's what you do when you don't know that counts." He gestured toward the weapons. "We'd better check the rest of them."
As he unloaded and checked each magazine, counting the cartridges, Alucius reflected on Heltyn's brief statement. Perhaps that had been his own problem—not wanting to act until he knew.
But now, he did know one thing. It would not be long before Over-captain Haeragn returned, and he would have to act before then.
At supper, after the incident with Kasta, Jesorak looked across the table in the squad leaders' mess at Alucius. Eltema was the only post Alucius had been where the squad leaders ate separately from the troopers, but that might have been because the troopers and trainees shared the same mess.
'Kasta was too stupid to be a trooper," the senior squad leader said. "We should have caught that. Then, he was from Klamat, and a lot of the north forest boys are Reillies who think with their muscles." He took a slow sip of the weak ale, not looking down at his unfinished oarfish. "Still bothers you, though. Every time it happens—it doesn't that much, thank the Matrial—I think about asking the overcaptain to send me back to the field." He set down the mug. "I did ask the second time it happened. She wouldn't. Told me that part of my job was to weed out the stupid, that it made Madrien a better place."
A better place? Or a less rebellious one? Alucius sipped his own ale. He hadn't finished his own meal. "I didn't want him to get killed. Neither did the undercaptain. She stunned him the first time, and then he tried to use the rifle…"
'That's stupidity," Heltyn added. "How smart is it to try to shoot someone after you've been discovered and stunned once?"
'Some people can't stand to be confined," Alucius pointed out. "I've seen that."
'That's a problem," Jesorak admitted. "But before the Matrial and the torques, the whole west coast of Corus was a slaughterhouse. Every city was fighting every other city, and the towns and hamlets between were raided and terrorized."
Were the only choices for people between two evils? Alucius pushed that thought away and replied, "It's not that way now. It might not even be that way if the torques vanished, now that people have seen the good."
Jesorak laughed, ruefully, looking down but ignoring the near-empty mug of ale. "After what you saw today? There's always some lump of muscle who wants things his way, no matter how many people get hurt or killed. Without the torques, the only way to stop them is with more muscle, and that ends up with people getting killed."
Alucius nodded, not because he agreed, but because he could see no point in arguing. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "The other night I saw a messenger. He was a full squad leader. When I left Senob Post, the overcaptain there told me that might be where I was reassigned." Alucius took another swallow of the weak ale. "What can you tell me about what they do here?"
'It's hard work. I did it once, right here. Glad I only I had to do it for a season." Jesorak looked up, his eyes somewhere else.
Alucius waited.
'I think they like every squad leader to do it for a while. You get to know more about how things fit together." Jesorak inclined his head toward Heltyn. "Except Heltyn here never did. I told him he'll never make senior squad leader until he does."
'I'm not much for bowing and scraping, Jesorak," Heltyn replied. "And waiting. Messengers do as much of that as riding. More, I'd wager. Take a message to the Matrial's residence for this or that over-captain or assistant. Then stand or sit in some corridor until they tell you to go back, or wait some more for them to give you an answer to take back. I can do without that. Half the time, all you know is the name you're supposed to take the message to."
'I'd wager none of the names are ever familiar, either," suggested Alucius.
'Oh, Rydorak… he said he recognized some, like Nyasal, one of the overcaptains, who's now an assistant to some other assistant, and, of course, everyone knows Pelysr because she's the Matrial's chief justicer. But most of the names aren't people squad leaders come across."
'Do the messengers have a special bay in the barracks, near the stables or something?" asked Alucius.
'Why do you want to know?" asked Heltyn.
Alucius managed a grin. "If I'm going to be reassigned, I thought I might talk to some of them. If it sounds as bad as Heltyn says, maybe I'll grovel at the overcaptain's boots and plead to stay in training."
Jesorak snorted. "They're just like all the rest of the squad leaders. Their bay is on the same corridor as ours. They do get the spaces closest to the courtyard. Bartwyn is the senior squad leader. He'll tell you how wonderful it is. Don't believe everything." The senior squad leader leaned back, then stood. "I still have to write an endorsement on your report about Kasta."
'You have to write that up?" asked Alucius disingenuously.
'Anything where a trainee is seriously hurt or dies. It's even worse in the regular trooper school. Overcaptain Haeragn writes something on that as well, and then it goes to… who is it… oh, sub arms commander what's-her-name… Benyal. I suppose she reports that to someone else." Jesorak lifted his platter and mug. "Rather talk with you two, but that won't get it written."
As Jesorak walked away, Heltyn looked at Alucius. "You going to talk to Bartwin or the others now?"
'Why not? The overcaptain could be back any day. Maybe I won't have any choice at all, but I'd like to know something before it happens." Alucius stood and picked up the remnants of the supper, then his mug.
'Still say you'd be better off in training."
'Probably," Alucius agreed. "But, if I get asked, and I probably won't, what do I say when she asks me what I know about the messenger service?"
'You always look at things that way?"
'No." Alucius laughed. "That was how I got captured."
After handing his platter and mug to the messboy, Alucius walked briskly to the bay where Jesorak had said the messengers were quartered.
Except for two full squad leaders, both looking several years older than Alucius, both in full uniform, the bay was empty. The two had pulled stools up to a footchest and were playing a game with stiff placards about the size of a large man's hand. Both looked up as Alucius appeared.
'Evening," Alucius offered. "I'm Alucius, from the training section. For now. But I was told I mig
ht be reassigned to messenger duty when Overcaptain Haeragn returns." He offered a shrug. "I don't know anything about it. So I thought I'd ask."
'Lysan," offered the slightly built blond man.
'Gero." The swarthy dark-haired squad leader, gestured toward a stool against the wall. "Sit down, and tell us about yourself." He set the placards on the chest face down, as did Lysan.
Alucius retrieved the stool. "I was with Fortieth Company in Zalt…" He went on to give a brief summary of his tour. "… and then Overcaptain Catryn sent me here for reassignment."
The two looked at each other, smiling.
'Well," Gero said, "I have this feeling we'll be seeing a lot of you, Alucius. I think Lysan will be seeing even more of you. I'm supposed to be rotated north to one of the Westerhills perimeter companies before long, and you just might be the one they've been waiting for. Seems like every trooper who makes full squad leader young gets a tour as a messenger."
'Could you tell me a little about what you do?" Lysan grimaced. "Besides ride and wait?"
'I've seen the sashes and the dispatch cases…" Alucius glanced to the wall where two sashes and cases hung. "You're on duty now, waiting?”
'We wouldn't be here, if we weren't," Gero pointed out.
'It's simple enough," Lysan said, pointing to the bell on the wall. "That rings and whoever's up first puts on his sash, and case, and then goes to the main duty office. The duty squad leader either has the message or tells you where to go to get it. If he does, he tells you where you're riding and who to give it to…"
When Lysan had finished outlining the procedure, Alucius asked, "Isn't it a little… strange… if you have to take a message to the Matrial's residence… or spaces… whatever?"
'Just call it the residence. Like a palace, but it's the residence. That's simpler. You just ride up to the western portico, that's the small one on the far side, and tell the duty guards—they're women in green, but with purple sleeves, sort of… tell them who the message is for. Generally, if it's for the arms commander and her staff—that's most of what we carry—one of them will escort you there. If it's for the Matrial or her personal staff, they take you to the second level, and you just hand it over to the personal aide on duty. They know what they're doing, not like when you have to run a message to some captain who's assigned to the rifleworks." Gero shook his head. "Most of the messages are from Arms Commander Uslyn or her aides over to the marshal and her staff. Sometimes from Overcaptain Haeragn or her deputy… what's her name?"
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