SOARER’S CHOICE
TOR BOOKS BY L. E. MODESITT, JR.
THE COREAN CHRONICLES
Legacies
Darknesses
Scepters
Alector’s Choice
Cadmian’s Choice
Soarer’s Choice
THE SAGA OF RECLUCE
The Magic of Recluce
The Towers of the Sunset
The Magic Engineer
The Order War
The Death of Chaos
Scion of Cyador
Fall of Angels
The Chaos Balance
The White Order
Colors of Chaos
Magi’i of Cyador
Wellspring of Chaos
Ordermaster
THE SPELLSONG CYCLE
The Soprano Sorceress
The Spellsong War
Darksong Rising
The Shadow Sorceress
Shadowsinger
THE ECOLITAN MATTER
Empire & Ecolitan
(comprising The Ecolitan Operation and The Ecologic Secession)
Ecolitan Prime
(comprising The Ecologic Envoy and The Ecolitan Enigma)
The Forever Hero
(comprising Dawn for a Distant Earth, The Silent Warrior, and In Endless Twilight)
Timegod’s World
(comprising Timediver’s Dawn and The Timegod)
THE GHOST BOOKS
Of Tangible Ghosts
The Ghost of the Revelator
Ghost of the White Nights
Ghost of Columbia
(comprising Of Tangible Ghosts and The Ghost of the Revelator)
The Hammer of Darkness
The Green Progression
The Parafaith War
Adiamante
Gravity Dreams
Octagonal Raven
Archform: Beauty
The Ethos Effect
Flash
The Eternity Artifact
The Elysium Commission
L. E. MODESITT, JR.
SOARER’S CHOICE
The Sixth Book of the Corean Chronicles
For Ben Bova,
who offered the first opportunity, and the key advice
ALECTORS OF ACORUS
KHELARYT
Duarch of Elcien
ZELYERT
High Alector of Justice
CHEMBRYT
High Alector of Finance
ALSERYL
High Alector of Transport
SAMIST
Duarch of Ludar
RUVRYN
High Alector of Engineering
JALORYT
High Alector of Trade
ZUTHYL
High Alector of Education
BREKYLT
High Alector of the East [Alustre]
ASULET
Senior Alector—Lyterna
PAEYLT
Senior Engineer—Lyterna
SHASTYLT
Former Marshal of Myrmidons
DAINYL
Marshal of Myrmidons—West [Elcien]
ALCYNA
Submarshal of Myrmidons—East [Alustre]
NORYAN
Majer of Myrmidons, deputy of Alcyna
LYSTRANA
Chief Assistant to High Alector of Finance
Table Cities
[Recorders of Deeds]
Elcien [Chastyl]
Ludar [Puleryt]
Alustre [Retyl]
Dereka [Jonyst]
Lysia [Sulerya]
Lyterna [Myenfel]
Tempre [Chyal]
Hyalt [Rhelyn]
Soupat [Nomyelt]
Dulka [Deturyl]
Norda [Dubaryt]
Prosp [Noryst]
Blackstear [Delari]
Faitel [Techyl]
Green towers rise against a setting sun,
proud monuments to choices ill-begun,
spare spires of eternal stone to stand
and long imprison spirits of the land.
Alectors’ choices fell on friends and foes.
They struck with force, righteousness, and woes.
Heeded not good or grace when day was done,
and greater powers had turned stars and sun.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Epilogue
SOARER’S CHOICE
1
Dainyl sat behind the wide desk in the large study in headquarters. On the desk were stacks of reports. To his left on the polished wood was a shorter stack—the immediate orders he had written for the Myrmidons in an effort to undo the worst of his predecessor’s plotting. Outside, the morning sunlight of late harvest warmed the courtyard and the blue-winged pteridons of First Company—those that were not flying dispatches and undertaking other duties. The solid granite of the courtyard and the walls sparkled in the bright sun, clean and crisp.
He’d permanently reassigned the Seventh Company of Myrmidons to Tempre from Dulka to keep them from being suborned by Quivaryt, the regional alector in Dulka, and clearly the tool of Brekylt, the Alector of the East in Alustre. After that had come the cover letter forwarding copies of Dainyl’s appointme
nt as marshal to each of the eight Myrmidon companies spread across Corus. Beside those lay the draft of his report on what he had done to quash the “revolt” in Hyalt and Tempre. Of course, he couldn’t tell the entire story, because his superior, the High Alector of Justice, the most honorable Zelyert, had firmly ordered him to treat the matter as a local revolt, rather than the first thrust of a conspiracy masterminded by Brekylt. To make matters worse, and more delicate, Dainyl suspected that Brekylt was being quietly urged on by Samist, the Duarch of Ludar.
Dainyl looked up from the various papers and back out through the window at the nearest pteridon in the courtyard behind the headquarters building, standing on its wide raised stone square and stretching its blue leathery wings. The long crystalline beak glittered in the sunlight. After a moment, Dainyl’s eyes dropped back to the papers before him.
Despite the proclamation that lay on his table desk and the green-edged gold stars on the collars of his blue and gray shimmersilk uniform that attested to his rank, Dainyl still didn’t feel like the Marshal of Myrmidons.
Add to that the fact that he was dreading the translation trip to Alustre, but the longer he waited, the more dangerous the situation became, and it wasn’t something he could delegate. For one thing, he didn’t have anyone to whom he could delegate the task. He’d been the submarshal in Elcien, and Colonel Dhenyr, who had been the Myrmidon operations director, had attempted to kill Dainyl when Dainyl had discovered Dhenyr’s treachery. Dainyl was the only senior officer left in headquarters. The other submarshal, Alcyna, was stationed in Alustre, the width of the continent away. For years, she had directed Myrmidon operations in the east, and she was one of the reasons Dainyl had to go to Alustre—and before long.
He took a deep breath and reached for the next document on the top of the taller pile. In less than a glass, he was due at the Palace of the Duarch in Elcien, to meet with Duarch Khelaryt to brief him personally on all that had happened in Hyalt and Tempre. He assumed that he would also be asked for his plans for the Myrmidons. That possibility worried him far more than explaining the past, because he doubted that it would be wise to reveal the reasons behind what he planned until he had a better idea of what the Duarch—and those around him—already knew.
Still, he needed to finish catching up on the other Myrmidon and Cadmian operations, or as many as he could, before he met with the Duarch. He began to read the report from Colonel Herolt, commander of the First Regiment, Cadmian Mounted Rifles.
When he finished, Dainyl couldn’t help but frown. Except for Second Battalion, every battalion in the First Regiment was understrength, and the colonel was reporting that matters were worsening. And why in the Archon’s name had a battalion been sent to Soupat? The mines there were marginal. At least he thought so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask Lystrana. As a chief assistant in the Palace of the Duarch, his wife might know the trade and finance background.
Slowly, he got up and headed for the records chamber.
Doselt, the squad leader in charge of records, then jumped to his feet. “Yes, Marshal?”
“Would you find me the records of and the orders to the First Cadmian Regiment that deal with the deployment of its Sixth Battalion to Soupat last season?”
“It might take a bit, sir.”
“Just bring them to me. If I’m not here, leave them on the corner of my desk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl moved down the corridor to see if Captain Ghasylt was in his study. Dainyl needed some help, and he needed it now. Ghasylt might be out in the courtyard—he spent more time flying or with the pteridons than did many company commanders. Dainyl was fortunate. The captain was standing by his desk, holding a report, looking at it quizzically.
He dropped it on the table. “Sir?”
“Ghasylt…you know that we have no operations director…”
“Yes, sir.” Ghasylt swallowed. “No, sir.”
“No, sir?” Dainyl couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m a flier, sir. I can’t do operations and scheduling and paperwork.”
“Your reports are excellent,” Dainyl pointed out.
“That’s because I don’t do them. Undercaptain Zernylta does. She has for years.”
Dainyl laughed. “I might steal her, then.”
“She writes well, sir. I’d hate to lose her, but she’d do better than I would.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s on the dispatch run from Ludar. She won’t be back until late.”
“Would you leave word that I would like to see her?”
“Yes, sir.” Ghasylt sounded disconsolate.
“If she works out, she won’t get jumped three ranks to colonel,” Dainyl said. “She’ll be a captain and assistant operations director.” Of course, there might not be an operations director for a while, but Dainyl needed the job done. “And you could still make majer…without doing much paperwork.” He grinned. “If you can find another undercaptain who can write.”
“Ghanyr’s not bad. Chelysta’s nearly as good as Zernylta, but don’t steal her. She’s the best squad leader in the air.”
Dainyl made a mental note to jot that down when he got back to his study. He could never tell when he might need another good company commander. He’d also have to check on Ghasylt. He might be able to promote him to majer anyway. The commanding officer of the Elcien company probably ought to be one, and Dainyl needed a good flying commander and loyalty as much as he needed an operations officer. “I appreciate the information, and even more, I appreciate your honesty and loyalty. These days, it means a great deal.”
Although Ghasylt’s expression remained politely attentive, Dainyl sensed the concealed surprise—and gratitude.
“We need to talk, before too long, about what may lie ahead for you and First Company.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl nodded, then turned and headed back toward his study. He didn’t make it.
“The duty coach is ready, sir!” That was Undercaptain Yuasylt, the duty officer.
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Dainyl paused. There was nothing he really needed in his study. He turned and headed toward the archway to the front entrance.
Outside, waiting with the coach, was Wyalt. As always, the duty driver had a smile on his face when Dainyl strode out of headquarters. “Good morning, Marshal.”
“Good morning, Wyalt. The Duarch’s Palace.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl stepped up into the coach and closed the door.
Once the coach began to move, he concentrated on how best to brief the Duarch. Some of that would depend on whether Khelaryt wanted a private briefing or one that included other High Alectors.
As the duty coach neared the Duarch’s Palace, Dainyl looked out at Elcien, a city built on an isle, of stone and tile and gardens and trees, orderly and vibrant, with stone-walled dwellings set on tree-lined streets, shops with their perfect tile roofs set around market squares that held everything produced on Acorus. Goods shipped from across the world flowed from the wharves and docks on the southern shore into endless warehouses and to everyone in Elcien, alectors and landers alike.
His eyes lingered on the twin green towers flanking the Palace, soaring into the silver-green sky, gleaming and glittering in the midmorning sunlight, symbolically crowning the accomplishments of the alectors of Acorus, who had turned a freezing and dying world into a place of life and achievement. Even as he marveled at the towers, Dainyl recalled the words of the ancient soarer. You must change, or you will die. That seemed so unlikely, yet the ancient had been so certain…and so melancholy in saying those words.
The coach slowed and came to a halt under the portico at the main entrance to the Duarch’s Palace. Dainyl stepped out.
“I’ll be waiting for you, sir,” Wyalt called down from the driver’s seat.
Dainyl almost told him to return to headquarters because others might need him, but cut off the words before he spoke. There wasn’t anyone there who wou
ld need the coach, not without a submarshal or an operations director. “Thank you. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I’ll be here, sir.”
Dainyl made his way in through the archway, past the pair of guards armed with lightcutter sidearms. He did not recall the slender alector who met him inside the main foyer of the Palace, although his face was vaguely familiar, but it was clear that the functionary knew Dainyl.
“Marshal, the Duarch is ready to see you. If you would accompany me.” He turned down the high-ceilinged hallway, flanked by goldenstone marble columns that led to the east wing of the Palace.
The hall was floored with the traditional octagonal tiles of green marble, linked by smaller diamond tiles of gold marble, and dark green velvet hangings between the goldenstone columns were trimmed in gold. The sound of Dainyl’s boots hitting the octagonal-and diamond-shaped marble floor tiles was lost in the expanse of the corridor.
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