Soarer's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Good morning, sir. I’m reporting for duty as requested,” Alcyna said brightly, stepping into Dainyl’s study and closing the door behind her.

  Beneath her Talent shields, she seemed cheerful and amused, Dainyl sensed. He gestured to the chairs. “Please sit down.”

  Alcyna slipped gracefully into the chair from which she could watch Dainyl and the door.

  “How was the translation?” asked Dainyl.

  “I had Retyl monitor Table traffic, and then left when things looked empty.” Alcyna shuddered, and her shimmering black hair, short as it was, rippled. “I’d just as soon not do too much Table travel anytime soon. They’ve had to kill more than a half-score of wild translations in the last two weeks, in Alustre alone. We’ve accepted five unauthorized translations and had to execute ten criminals trying to escape Ifryn.”

  Dainyl wondered how she knew they were criminals, since criminals would either have been restrained or executed on Ifryn. Or were the recorders deciding anyone who couldn’t prove usefulness was a criminal? If the twelve functioning Tables were receiving similar translations—that was close to 150 alectors a week trying to flee Ifryn.

  “I can’t say I like the idea of guards in the Table chambers, either,” Alcyna went on. “Some High Alector will be shot by mistake before it’s all over.”

  “It’s already happened,” Dainyl said. “Fahylt was killed several weeks ago in Ludar.”

  “He wasn’t that good on the Tables, and he didn’t have strong shields. He wouldn’t even have been an RA if his wife hadn’t been a cousin of Samist.”

  While Dainyl hadn’t known that, it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. He laughed, softly. “Who are you related to, Alcyna? Or are you?”

  “No one that important anymore. Weylt was my mother’s cousin.”

  Weylt had been Tyanylt’s predecessor as submarshal, a good ten years back. He’d vanished, supposedly, in translating from Dulka, as Dainyl recalled. “He got you into the Myrmidons and promoted to undercaptain, and the rest was up to you?”

  “Something like that. Not quite as laudatory as your background. He didn’t think I was cut out for the Myrmidons, but my mother badgered him until he supported me. I still spent three years as a sandox driver on the Alustre to Coren run.”

  “That’s a long run,” observed Dainyl. “Have you heard that Alseryl is complaining that we want too many of his drivers for trainees?”

  “You were a bit hard on Fifth and Seventh Companies, sir.” Alcyna’s voice was light, just short of brightly ironic.

  “Rhelyn was hard on Fifth Company. I was hard on Seventh Company. By the way, they’ll be based at Tempre for now. They’re supporting Ruvryn’s engineers in rebuilding the Tables in Hyalt and Tempre.”

  “I can see why you would feel that necessary.”

  “Wouldn’t you, in my position?”

  “Yes, sir.” Alcyna laughed warmly. “Even as submarshal I see the necessity. Brekylt did ask me, before I left, if I thought that Seventh Company would return to Dulka soon. I told him that I thought it was unlikely to occur anytime soon. Was I wrong?”

  “We’ll have to see.” Dainyl paused. “Can you tell me what Brekylt really has in mind? Does he want to replace Khelaryt, or merely gain greater control over Corus east of the Spine?”

  “He has never said, not directly. He did suggest that the Myrmidons in the east should be a separate command and controlled from Alustre.”

  “With you in charge, I presume?”

  “Of course.” A warm and humorous smile followed her words. “He will say what he thinks needful to obtain the ends he wishes.”

  As will you, thought Dainyl. “It would seem that he wants power without controls.”

  “Would not anyone seeking power?”

  “What will he do next?”

  “Very little, I would judge. He will wait for events to unfold, and for others to make mistakes. He did say that Shastylt had gravely misjudged you.”

  “Oh? In what fashion?”

  “He said that you were as much a son of Acorus as of Ifryn, and that Shastylt did not understand that.”

  That was an odd comment, reflected Dainyl, since it was patently obvious. Dainyl had been born on Acorus of parents also born on Acorus, and those facts had been one reason—not the only one, but one—why his advancement in the Myrmidons had been so slow.

  “Sir…if I might ask…your shields and your Talent are tinged with green, a green similar to the ancients…”

  Dainyl laughed, shaking his head ruefully. “Rhelyn attacked me with a weapon of the ancients. My entire arm was green, but after I recovered, the greenness dispersed through my system and began to fade.” He paused briefly, sensing what he thought was deeply concealed shock and surprise, before continuing. “Then, a few days ago, in returning from Lyterna, I was in translation when the ancients filled the tube with green. Chastyl—the recorder in the Hall of Justice—said that they had gotten wild translations that ended up on the Table all Talent-green as well. He assured me that it will fade as well…assuming something else doesn’t happen.”

  Alcyna nodded, a trace stiffly.

  Dainyl had to wonder why the greenness and his story had bothered her. Because it suggested he could survive aspects of the ancients’ weapons? Or because she’d been involved with Rhelyn’s weapon? “I don’t know if I mentioned the weapon Rhelyn used. I had thought it was a dagger, but it turned out to be a sword of the ancients, the kind that bleeds lifeforce. I was fortunate that he barely cut me.”

  “I suspect you were. What happened to the weapon?”

  “It’s been removed. No one will ever see it again. I have no idea where it is.”

  Dainyl could not help but catch the slight relief within Alcyna. “Where did you find it?”

  She laughed, harshly. “Brekylt said Shastylt underestimated you. I think he has as well.”

  “Near Scien?” Dainyl asked.

  She shook her head. “Buried near one of their mountain places along the Northern Pass. Years ago. It disappeared a year or so ago. I’d never shown it to anyone.”

  For the first time since she had entered his study, Dainyl sensed no evasion or equivocation. “Brekylt gave it to Rhelyn, then.”

  “I don’t know. I would judge so.”

  “You may be fortunate that he gave it to Rhelyn before I chose you for submarshal,” suggested Dainyl.

  “That is very possible.”

  For a moment, neither spoke. Dainyl saw no point in pursuing the circumstances surrounding the weapon’s disappearance.

  Finally, he spoke. “The best quarters for visiting senior officers have been prepared for you, and they’re yours for so long as you may require them. I have a large stack of reports and materials waiting for you on your desk, but I’m going to go over briefly the most pressing problems with you here, first.”

  She nodded.

  “The ancients appear to be getting ready to attack in some fashion. It appears as though they dropped a cliff on a Cadmian battalion and that they unleashed some new Talent creatures against another battalion in the Iron Valleys….” Dainyl went on to outline the situations and the initial steps he had taken in response. “What I’d like you to concentrate on are three matters—following the progress of the Table repairs in Tempre and Hyalt; seeing what you can find out about what really happened up in Eastice; and working with Alseryl’s chief assistant on the matter of getting more trainees from the sandox drivers.”

  “You think we’ll lose more Myrmidons?”

  “The Third Cadmian Battalion has had better fortune against Talent creatures than any other Cadmian unit, but it’s a question as to whether they can deal with what the ancients may do. I’d rather not send Myrmidons there unless we have to.”

  “And not immediately, not while you’re worried about what Brekylt will do?”

  “That’s right.” Dainyl smiled. “I almost forgot. Lystrana has asked that you join us for supper tomorrow night.”

  “
That would be delightful. I’ve heard so much about her. All of it good, of course.”

  Dainyl stood. “I’ll show you your study, and you can get to work.”

  17

  Late on Octdi, Alcyna sat across from Dainyl in the duty coach as it carried them eastward on the boulevard from Myrmidon headquarters toward Dainyl’s dwelling. Both wore their duty uniforms of blue and gray.

  Dainyl glanced forward in the direction of the new duty driver. “It didn’t take you that long to get a replacement for Wyalt. How did you manage that?”

  Alcyna smiled. “I just suggested to Alseryl’s assistant that morale among sandox drivers might suffer greatly if it became known that the High Alector was refusing to allow drivers to become Myrmidon trainees, and that, in these times, it would be a shame if the High Alector had to explain that to either Duarch, especially if you had to brief the Duarch Khelaryt about it.”

  “And?”

  “She left to consult with Alseryl. When she came back, she said that there would be no need for matters to go that far.” Alcyna shrugged. “I pushed a bit. I asked if she were certain that you didn’t need to brief Khelaryt. She was quite definite that it would not be necessary.”

  “They don’t want me near the Duarch, that is.”

  “No more than absolutely necessary, I’d judge.”

  Alseryl’s reaction seemed excessive to Dainyl, but he decided to mull that over, rather than comment further. “Sharua seems pleased to be with First Company and headquarters.”

  “Very pleased.” Alcyna smiled. “So are the junior rankers who might have had to do time as duty drivers.”

  The coach drew to a halt.

  “Marshal, sir?” called Sharua. “Is this your dwelling?”

  “This is it.” Dainyl opened the coach door and nodded for Alcyna to precede him. Then he stepped onto the still damp paving stones of the small front courtyard. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, sirs.” The driver inclined her head.

  Dainyl took the steps and opened the door.

  Lystrana was waiting in the foyer.

  “Alcyna, I’d like you to meet Lystrana,” Dainyl said politely.

  “It is good to finally meet you,” offered Alcyna. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “And I, you,” replied Lystrana politely. “I’m glad you arrived in Elcien safely. You accomplished much in the east, Dainyl said, and there’s doubtless much he has not mentioned.”

  “He has mentioned very little about you, Lystrana, but I’ve heard much from others, and all of it is impressive.”

  “All of it is doubtless overstated,” demurred Lystrana. “If you would care for some wine…” She gestured in the direction of the dining room and the sunroom beyond.

  Dainyl and Alcyna followed her into the sunroom.

  Dainyl poured two goblets of wine, and then added less than a finger full to the third goblet. After extending the near-empty goblet to his wife, he offered the tray with the two full goblets on it to Alcyna. “It’s a Vyan Argentium, not quite up to the standards of the Argentium Grande from Elcadya, but very nice.”

  Alcyna laughed. “He forgets very little.”

  “Very little,” Lystrana agreed, “but unlike many, he’s not a slave to his memories.” She settled into a straight-backed chair.

  Dainyl let Alcyna have the settee and sat in the other straight-backed chair, the one that left his back to the window out into the courtyard.

  Alcyna sipped the wine. “It is quite good.”

  “We enjoy it, but one has to be careful on a Myrmidon’s pay, even when he’s married to an important special assistant.”

  “You two are a remarkable pair,” said Alcyna. “How did you meet?”

  Dainyl and Lystrana exchanged glances. Lystrana raised one eyebrow. Dainyl nodded, almost imperceptibly, before taking a sip of the Argentium.

  “At an administration of justice.” Lystrana offered a smile somewhere between mischievous and amused. “He was an undercaptain and had the guard detail. I was the most junior assistant to the High Alector of Trade at the time.”

  Alcyna glanced from Lystrana to Dainyl. “That is unusual. What else is there that no one knows?”

  “I’m sure that there’s a great deal,” Dainyl replied, “as there is for most pairs. We like gardens and flowers, and neither one of us is that good a cook—and my mother decidedly approves of that. Cooking turns the brain to mush, she once said.”

  “Your mother is Alyra, isn’t she? The one who turned down the post of—”

  “Everyone’s heard of that, I think,” replied Dainyl, with a tone of humorous resignation. “Arts administrator of Elcien, the post was titled. She said no one could or should administer the arts, and then she proceeded to do so for fifty years, without the title and only a minimal stipend. She thought that I had so little artistic ability that I might as well become a Myrmidon. I think I had one of the least rapid rises in Myrmidon history.”

  “That may have provided you with great advantages,” suggested Alcyna.

  He shrugged. “For a long time, no one paid any attention. That is useful, especially if one has a great deal to learn.”

  “I hope you like fowl,” said Lystrana, looking at Alcyna. “I’ve had the girls prepare a family recipe, cider and honey-roasted, with nut-crusted long beans…”

  Dainyl got the message—no more about Myrmidons or anything serious.

  18

  After morning muster on Londi, Mykel sat at the table in the officers’ mess, the only large table in the compound besides those in the main mess, writing up his weekly report to Colonel Herolt. He had another day and a half before the next sandox coach run through Hyalt, but he hated to wait to write his reports. He’d always disliked leaving things to the last moment.

  Rhystan stepped into the room. “Majer?”

  Mykel looked up. “We don’t have any orders yet, Rhystan.”

  “Yes, sir. That wasn’t why I came in. There’s a Myrmidon captain, landed on the pteridon square—the new one they just finished. She’s asking for you.”

  “Frig…that can’t be good news.” Mykel slipped the sheets of paper into his leather case, then stood, and tucked the case under his arm.

  “They can’t always bring bad news, sir.”

  “Close enough.” As he left the mess, Mykel strengthened his shields, in an effort to conceal his Talent from the Myrmidon, although he did not know how much Talent the officer might possess.

  The pteridon squares were in the open area of the courtyard at the far north end, and Mykel walked quickly across the newly paved area. Only a small section in the northwest corner of the compound remained to be paved, but Poeldyn’s men had stopped working and were watching the Myrmidon and the pteridon. A faint haze covered the southern third of the sky, and a hot breeze blew out of the southeast, suggesting even warmer weather to come later in the day, and possibly for several days to come. Mykel found himself blotting his forehead with the forearm of his tunic.

  Several of the stoneworkers glanced at Mykel as he approached, but their eyes returned to the pteridon square.

  “Majer Mykel? I’m Captain Lyzetta, Seventh Myrmidon Company out of Tempre.” Standing beside the pteridon, the captain looked tall, even for an alectress. “Marshal Dainyl asked me to deliver your orders to you personally.” She extended an envelope.

  Mykel inclined his head politely. “Thank you.”

  “I also thought I’d let you know that you no longer need to provide perimeter security for the alector’s compound west of Hyalt. We’ll be bringing in engineers and personnel to rebuild.”

  “When do you want me to pull the patrols?”

  “At dawn tomorrow, unless someone returns with a change.”

  “You’ll have perimeter patrols until dawn tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Majer.” Captain Lyzetta swung up into the silvery saddle and fastened the riding harness with quick and practiced movements.

  Mykel stepped back from the square,
joining Rhystan. The two Cadmian officers watched as the pteridon spread its wings and sprang skyward. Again, Mykel sensed the burst of purpled Talent energy required for the creature to become airborne.

  “Wonder what it’s like to fly on one of those?” asked Rhystan.

  “I’d just as soon not discover,” replied Mykel. “Let’s go back to the mess and see what the Marshal of Myrmidons has in mind for us. I’d feel slightly happier if the orders came from the submarshal.” He paused. “Only slightly.”

  Rhystan glanced toward the departing pteridon once more. “I have a few concerns when we get orders directly from the Myrmidons, rather than from the colonel.”

  So did Mykel, but he said nothing as he walked back toward the barracks. Once inside the small mess room, he opened the envelope and took out the papers inside. He began to read.

  The Third Battalion, Cadmian Mounted Rifles, Majer Mykel commanding, is hereby ordered to proceed immediately to Iron Stem. The commanding officer, Third Battalion, will assume full command of all Cadmian forces in the Iron Valleys, including but not limited to command over Fourth Battalion. He will take any and all steps necessary to restore complete civil and military order and will eliminate as necessary all predators and disturbing influences….

  In proceeding to Iron Stem, Third Battalion will proceed by mount and wagon to Tempre, and take barge transport from Tempre to the river port of Dekhron…

  Mykel finished reading the orders and instructions, then looked back at the title and signature under the orders proper: Dainyl, Marshal of Myrmidons.

  “What is it, sir?”

  “Submarshal Dainyl is now the marshal. The orders are from him.” Mykel laid the orders on the mess table. “We’re headed to Iron Stem. Half of Fourth Battalion was wiped out.”

  “Majer Hersiod isn’t much better than Vaclyn. If you’re junior to him…”

  “He was among the casualties. We’re in charge of all Cadmian forces in the Iron Valleys,” Mykel replied. “And we have to deal with strange creatures like sandwolves, rebel miners, and predators supposedly nastier than anything we’ve faced yet.”