“So would Zelyert,” added Lystrana sadly. A quizzical expression followed. “What new creature?”
“I don’t know, except the Cadmian reports say that it is horned and similar to sheep, and that it’s caused casualties—and that’s not like any sheep I ever heard of.”
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange that all of this is happening now?”
“Strange? No. It’s predictable. We’re likely to be more vulnerable, at least during the transfer of the Master Scepter, and the ancients have to know that more alectors are coming to Acorus. There’s been a rebellion and unrest as alectors seek to change who holds power on Acorus. At the same time, we’ve seen new predators, or a resurgence of old ones and greater efforts by the ancients against the pteridons. To me, it all follows. They’ll strike at us now because we’re not really unified and because, if they don’t, we will get stronger and wipe them out.”
“And yet they saved you.”
When Lystrana put it that way, Dainyl didn’t care for the implications at all. Had he somehow, even without his own knowledge, been subverted to the goals and desires of the ancients? And if he had not, why had they not only spared him when he’d been in their power, but actually saved him?
He stifled another yawn.
“Dearest…you need some sleep. It will all make more sense when you’re rested.”
She was right about his needing sleep, but Dainyl had the feeling that what the ancients had in mind would not be any clearer in the morning or, indeed, at any time until it was too late for him to do anything about matters.
10
With all the details and difficulties involved in moving Third Battalion from the old Hyalt garrison to the new compound north of the town, it was the following Londi before Mykel felt matters were settled enough for him to take Fabrytal and Fifteenth Company on an armed reconnaissance of the half-destroyed regional alector’s complex in Hyalt. He had wanted to get there before the alectors returned, but not before he had the companies relocated in a more defensible position. Still, as of Decdi evening, the squads maintaining the security perimeter around the area had not reported any activity.
Mykel had not seen any reason to take the more circular patrol route to the north. Instead, he had ordered the company along the main route to the compound. For the first vingt away from the square in Hyalt, the way was paved, but after that it deteriorated to a packed clay and gravel road that circled around low hills covered with the brush and junipers that seemed ubiquitous west of Hyalt. The road was wide enough for easy travel with two mounts abreast, and hard-packed enough that where ruts existed they were shallow.
Despite the haze that created an even greater silver sheen across the otherwise cloudless green sky, the morning sun was warm on the back of Mykel’s gray and maroon Cadmian uniform tunic. He shifted his weight in the saddle, gingerly, in order not to jolt his still-tender shoulder.
“You think we’ll see any strange creatures, Majer?” Fabrytal rode to Mykel’s right.
“These days, I’m not certain what we’ll see or where we’ll encounter it. We might see anything, and we might run into nothing.” Mykel glanced ahead, his eyes on the scouts a good half vingt out, moving out of sight where the road curved south and then west again. He did not sense anything untoward, but he had not forgotten there were some alectors and landers that he could not sense.
His lips curled into a faint smile. One of those was Rachyla. That should not have surprised him, but at the time he had discovered that it had. He felt that there was so much more to her than he could sense.
Less than a glass later, a half squad of Cadmians appeared on the road, formed up and apparently waiting for Mykel and Fifteenth Company. Once they neared the patrol squad, Fabrytal halted Fifteenth Company, and the two officers rode forward to the Cadmian in charge.
“Majer, sir, no intruders sighted this watch.” The squad leader was from First Hyalt Company, and Mykel did not recall the man’s name.
“Any sign of anyone in the compound?”
“No, sir.”
“We’re going in to take a closer look. I’d appreciate it if you’d continue your patrols. If you see anything strange, or any pteridons flying in, send a messenger.”
“Yes, sir.” The squad leader nodded emphatically.
“Thank you.” Mykel eased his mount westward.
“Fifteenth Company! Forward!” ordered Fabrytal.
Neither officer spoke as they rode away from the patrol and led Fifteenth Company up the last section of the road, a long gentle slope, at the end of which Mykel could see the redstone cliffs that held part of the compound. The packed dirt and clay of the road had turned a redder shade, and there was more sand in the loose dust and dirt, and more space between the clumps of harvest-tan grass. The wind had picked up, hot and dry out of the south, carrying fine dust that stuck to the sweat on the back of Mykel’s neck.
“Why do you think they haven’t sent anyone to repair things here?” asked Fabrytal.
“I imagine Tempre is a higher priority. It takes longer to transport men and materials here. They’ve all got to come by the high roads. It’s close to seven hundred vingts by road from Faitel to Hyalt. That’s after they decide how they want to rebuild.”
“If they want to.”
“They will,” predicted Mykel. There had to be some reason why the alectors had built in Hyalt in the first place. He just didn’t know what it happened to be.
When Fifteenth Company reached the level section of ground that stretched eastward from the line of cliffs, Mykel studied the area with both his eyes and other senses. What remained of the outbuilding was a heap of redstone, discolored by soot and ashes. A stone archway and recessed entry provided the access to whatever chambers and passages had been cut into the redstone cliff. Higher up, he could see scorched and blackened patches.
“Burned it good,” murmured Fabrytal.
“I don’t think they had much choice. How else do you get people out of a stone redoubt without losing all sorts of men?”
“They don’t mind losing our men.”
“Some don’t, and some do. The submarshal doesn’t like wasting men. He kept the Cadmians here out of the direct fighting, and he ordered us not to deal with the rebel alectors in Tempre directly unless absolutely necessary.”
“Majer…sir…he’s about the only one I ever heard who thinks that way.”
“You may be right. We’d better hope nothing happens to him.”
As they drew nearer to the ruined outbuilding, Mykel could make out black lines across the sandy soil, and there was still the faintest odor of smoke and burned wood. Although he saw no bodies, and no crows or other carrion eaters, a sense of death permeated everything.
Mykel reined up a good twenty yards from the stone archway that framed the recessed entry into the cliff. Smoke had stained the stone, and a faint odor of brimstone lingered. “I’ll want to inspect the tunnels.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send a squad out first, just in case.” Fabrytal turned in the saddle. “First squad, dismount! Rifles ready! Second squad, take their mounts!”
Mykel did not protest. From what he could sense, there was no one present. Even if there might be someone undetected by his Talent, that was infrequent, and a single individual could only inflict limited damage.
“First squad! Check out the chambers and report!” Fabrytal rode to the side. “Fifth squad! Rifles ready! Watch for intruders!” Then he rode back and reined up beside Mykel.
As they waited, Mykel kept his senses alert, but could only detect Cadmians.
“Do you have any idea why the alectors here rebelled against the Myrmidons, sir?” Fabrytal finally asked.
“No. That’s not something they tell Cadmian officers.” It likely had to do with which alectors wanted to control Corus, Mykel reflected, but he still had no idea which side Submarshal Dainyl was on or whether that might be the best side. But then, Mykel was having doubts as to whether any “side” was good for most pe
ople.
“When do you think we’ll get orders from the colonel?”
“It could be anytime, or it could be weeks.” Mykel grinned. “And, no, I don’t have any idea whether we’ll be sent back to Northa or to some other place.”
“Ah…yes, sir.”
Another quarter glass passed before first squad returned and Gendsyr reported. “No one there, Majer, Undercaptain. There must be hundreds of those silver and black uniforms in a big hall carved into the stone—and boots and clothes, but there’s no one in any of the tunnels and chambers. Some places, things are burned pretty bad. Other places…there’s not much damage.”
“Thank you.” Mykel turned to Fabrytal. “I need to check it out.”
“Gendsyr, a five-man detail to accompany the majer,” ordered Fabrytal.
“Yes, sir.” The squad leader turned. “Shenylt, Noart…”
Mykel dismounted and handed the roan’s reins to Bhonat, one of the first squad members who was not in the detail, then took his rifle from its holder, and walked toward the archway. As he stepped into the tunnellike entry, he raised his own shields with as much strength as he could offer them. The only sounds were those of the hot wind outside and the crunching echo of his boots on the marble floor tiles. The smell of brimstone was far stronger, so strong that it must have been overpowering during the attack. Behind him followed the five rankers.
Once past the door, swung back to the left in an alcove, he could see a pile of metallic pieces and parts of a cart—probably the remnants of one of the light-weapons he had seen earlier. Had it been destroyed in the fighting, or later?
Another few yards along was an archway to the right. Mykel stopped and looked through it into an enormous chamber with a stone ceiling that soared into darkness—except for a small area that had been a skylight of some sort before it had been blocked with large stones. The far side of the chamber was filled with ashes. Along the near side were stacks and stacks of the black and silver shimmersilk uniforms worn by the rebels, along with other items of clothing—all folded carelessly—and rows of boots. All had once been worn.
Mykel turned and continued along the passageway, trying to follow his senses toward a faint sense of purpleness. The corridor to the left ended abruptly, after a number of vacant rooms. He retraced his steps and made his way back to the main underground hallway, lit by the strange crystal lamps in their brass wall brackets. Since he’d only seen lamps like those in the lower reaches of the alector’s building in Tempre, he assumed that they were used only by alectors.
He walked along the curved corridor, knowing that the Table had to be somewhere near. He could sense a faint purpleness, but was having trouble determining from where it was coming. A knot of purple Talent appeared ahead, on his left, head-high, on what appeared to be a blank stone wall.
Mykel stopped, turned, and studied the wall.
After a moment, he tried to recall exactly what he had done in Tempre, the puzzlelike untwining of the Talent energy. It took him three tries before the knot of purple force unraveled and then a section of stone slid back, leaving an opening little more than a yard wide.
“…how’d he do that?”
Low as the whisper was, Mykel caught the words. He decided to ignore them. “Stand by out here.”
He stepped through the opening into the oblong chamber. Outside of a single black chest set against one stone wall, and the Table itself, there were no furnishings in the windowless space. Several sets of clothing lay on the floor, as if the alectors had died there and vanished. Most had been in silver and black, but one had worn green shimmersilk trimmed in purple. Mykel stepped around and over garments and boots.
Five of the crystal lamps provided a gentle but indirect illumination. There was but a residual sense of the purpled force buried deep within the Table. While the surface still held a mirror finish, it felt dead, compared to the Table in Tempre before Mykel had disabled it.
He walked around the Table to the chest-high cabinet and pulled out the top drawer. It was empty, except for stacks of blank paper of various sizes. The second drawer held purple-trimmed green tunics and trousers. The third held various writing-related implements—marksticks, pens, styli, blotting powder—and something else. Mykel lifted the folded item. It felt like stiff fabric, but unfolded to reveal a map of Corus, in brilliant color on a glossy finish unlike anything he had seen. He debated returning it, then slipped the map inside his tunic, and closed the last drawer of the chest.
Then, he turned back to face the Table. He concentrated, letting everything fall away from him, trying to sense beneath and beyond the Table. He couldn’t help smiling as he gained the impression of the wider and deeper blackness that lay beneath the Table, on top of which rested a narrower purplish mist. Somehow, he knew, the Tables used the purple tube and the blackness as their basis for what they did. He also had the feeling that where the soarers appeared had more to do with the black than the purple, although that was even less certain.
Now what that understanding gained him he had no idea, but perhaps in time he would. He nodded, then turned and left the chamber. He left the door open, since he assumed that the alectors would return before long, and he preferred to leave as little trace of his own Talent as possible.
“There’s nothing in there, except a few uniforms and boots. We’ll head back, now. There’s nothing else we need to see.”
As he walked back through the tunnel, he half smiled as he picked up the murmurs behind him.
“…he knows things…”
“…what officers are supposed to do.”
“Not like that.”
Mykel felt as though he had found various pieces of a gigantic puzzle composed of various intricate and strange shapes, but that he had no idea how to assemble those pieces or what they might look like once he did. Even so, he felt that it had been important to see the Table in Hyalt, and he definitely wanted to study the map he had removed—but in private.
11
On Duadi morning, less than a glass after morning muster, Captain (acting) Zernylta stood before Dainyl’s desk in headquarters. Her fingers were slightly ink-stained, and several strands of her black hair, short as it was, had drifted down across her forehead. Dainyl had been standing at the window, looking at the morning clouds outside, when she had appeared. He had turned to invite her in and had remained on his feet beside the desk, which he had just cleared of reports—finally—shortly before she had arrived.
“Sir, you had said that the High Alector of Engineering would be wanting pteridon transport for some engineers.”
“He’s requested more than we can supply from Elcien, I take it.” Dainyl had no doubts that High Alector Ruvryn would be difficult, not after what Lystrana had told him and after his own briefing of the High Alector.
“Yes, sir. He wants three squads for a full week, starting on Sexdi. He says that they’ll need to transport three tonnes of equipment and supplies and five engineers, first to Tempre, and then to Hyalt.”
Dainyl frowned. He had his doubts whether Ruvryn’s engineers needed all that equipment, but he couldn’t very well question an engineer about engineering equipment, especially when he wasn’t supposed to know about Table maintenance and internal operations—and when he’d been the real cause of the failure of the Table in Hyalt. He still wondered what had caused the Table failure in Tempre, but pushed that aside to consider Ruvryn’s “request.”
For long distances, a hundredweight was generally the most a pteridon could carry without extreme lifeforce use. At ten hundredweight to a tonne, that amounted to thirty round-trips from either Faitel or Ludar, and a day each way for each trip. If some of the equipment had to go to Tempre first and then to Hyalt, or the other way around, that could add another ten or fifteen trips.
“He can have one squad from here—either second or fourth, and two from Seventh Company in Tempre, whichever ones Captain Lyzetta thinks will do best.”
“Seventh Company isn’t all that heavily tasked
, sir. I have been giving them the long runs to Dereka and Lyterna, but…”
“I understand, but remember, Seventh Company is short three pteridons. If you need to, you can bring in one of Seventh Company’s squads for dispatch runs from here, but I want one of First Company’s squads there supporting the engineers, and I want a full report on what they’re asked to do.”
“I’d say fourth squad then, sir.”
Dainyl had thought that might have been her recommendation, based on what Ghasylt had told him earlier. “Write up a concurrence on those terms, and I’ll look it over, and sign it. Then you’ll need to send a dispatch to Captain Lyzetta. We’ll need to know where they want the pteridons on Sexdi, and we’ll need to know no later than tomorrow night. Someone may ask why, and the answer is because Tempre has no Table, and we’ll need to fly a dispatch there, and that takes a day, and a day to fly to where they want the equipment picked up. So every day they delay in telling us past tomorrow is a day later before they can start.”
“Sir…?”
“Yes, Captain, there are some assistants to High Alectors who honestly do not think such matters through. They’re used to instant travel by Table, and it doesn’t occur to them that logistics take more time. You wouldn’t think it, but…” Dainyl shrugged. “Write up the concurrence for me to sign first. Then work on the other dispatches and the supporting details.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh…how are we coming on getting the transfers from the sandoxen drivers to Seventh Company?”
“Two of them are in Tempre. Two more should be detached before long, but the chief assistant to the High Alector of Transport said to tell you that it will be hard to get any more for another few months. Usually, the Myrmidons only need five or six new fliers every year.”
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