“Since I’ve never been a High Alector,” Dainyl replied, “what do I do now? Is there any formality, documents…?”
“I trust you will not object to a lack of ceremony. It has been some years since a High Alector has been replaced, and now does not seem a time for celebration. If you will wait a few moments, I will sign a writ making the position officially yours.”
Khelaryt sent a Talent pulse, and the library door opened.
Bharyt stood there. “Most High?”
“Marshal Dainyl is the new High Alector of Justice. If you would prepare a writ immediately for me to sign…”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as the door closed behind Bharyt, Khelaryt moved to the desk, then settled himself behind it. He gestured to the chairs on the other side. Dainyl took one.
“I understand that the insurgents in both Blackstear and Soupat were led by Ifryn Myrmidons. Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The late Zelyert was not terribly specific, but I was under the impression that you actually inactivated the Blackstear Table and still translated away from it and then returned to Blackstear with First Company and destroyed the invaders to the last alector.”
“That’s generally true, sir. But I didn’t translate from an inactive Table. There’s a short time between when a Table gets the Talent signal to inactivate it and when it responds. I was standing on the Table when I sent the signal, and I translated that instant.”
“Rather amazing feat, I’d say. You translated in, killed enough rebels to allow you to inactivate the Table, and then departed.”
Dainyl shrugged. “It had to be done.”
“You didn’t do the same in Soupat.”
“No. It was clear that they knew more about Tables. Blackstear may even have been a diversion.”
“I had wondered about that. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for certain.”
“I’d doubt it, sir.”
“What do you intend to do about the east?”
“Nothing until I know more,” Dainyl replied. “I don’t know how Brekylt intends to establish his independence from the Duarches or what exact role Zelyert and Ruvryn played in his schemes or whether they were only apparent allies with their own separate schemes. I’m troubled by the number of Cadmian rifles produced by the engineers and sent to rebels and insurgents all throughout western Corus and Dramur. To me, it seems obvious that Ruvryn wanted to weaken the Cadmians. Almost all the Cadmian companies are significantly understrength. The Myrmidons have been weakened, if not to the same degree, and largely, once more, in the west. My assumption is that these are all part of a design to make it difficult for the Duarches to maintain order and control west of the Spine of Corus, let alone deal with Brekylt’s efforts to set himself up as an equal to you and Samist.”
Khelaryt laughed. “For an alector who professes to know little, you have a better understanding of what is transpiring than do most of the other High Alectors.”
“They must know, sir. They just refuse to talk about it or admit it.”
“That is a difference without a distinction, Dainyl. Knowledge unexpressed is no different from ignorance.”
Dainyl thought it worse, because the ignorant had the excuse of not knowing. The High Alectors’ only justification was fear and self-interest.
There was the slightest knock on the door, and Bharyt stepped inside bearing two small scrolls. “These are old-style writs, sir, but they were the most convenient.”
“Tradition can always be useful, particularly in times of change.” Khelaryt held out a hand.
Bharyt crossed the room, passing the pair to the Duarch. “One for the High Alector, to be posted in the Hall of Justice, and one to be posted here in the Palace.”
“Even in these times, there are some traditions to be followed,” murmured Khelaryt.
Bharyt looked to Dainyl. “Sir, there is another tradition…”
Dainyl nodded for him to continue.
“The day after a new High Alector of Justice is seated, he personally receives petitions in the Hall of Justice. He is expected to show mercy where possible, and more than usual.”
“Zelyert often heard petitions. Is that not expected? Or is it the greater degree of mercy that is the tradition?”
“The mercy,” replied Khelaryt, signing and sealing one scroll, and then the second, using several of the books on the table to pin down the corners of the scrolls so that the wax could harden and the ink dry. “What else will he need?”
“Highest Dainyl can use the same seal. It’s a seal of the office, not the individual,” replied Bharyt, “but he should find official garments in green and purple, at least for public appearances. We might have some that would fit…it has been a time.”
“Do what you can.” As Bharyt departed the library, Khelaryt turned his gaze back on Dainyl. “I’ll expect you at the second glass of the afternoon tomorrow, after you hold your morning audience for petitioners, for a greater discussion of matters. For now, you should return to the Hall of Justice and establish your presence. Then you will need to deal with the Myrmidons. I will communicate your status to all the recorders and the other High Alectors.”
“Do I need to present myself to Duarch Samist?”
“That would be politic, but I would judge you have a day or two, and I would send a written request asking his indulgence for you to call on him at his convenience.”
“Is there anyone else?”
“Had you not already established yourself with Asulet, that would have been necessary. As it is, you have spent more time with him than most High Alectors.” Khelaryt smiled and gestured toward the door. “Best you get on with the politics that you love so much.”
Dainyl caught the humor behind the words and did not conceal his smile. “I fear I have never hid my dislike of empty and misleading words and gestures.” He stood.
“They are misleading, but seldom empty,” replied Khelaryt. “You should remember that, High Alector.”
“Yes, sir.” Dainyl accepted the mild rebuke, inclined his head, then turned.
He did not hear the latch of the library door click as he shut it behind him, and he paused for a moment. Was the click a device to unnerve those coming into the library to see the Duarch?
Bemusedly, he shook his head. That was certainly possible.
As he crossed the entry foyer of the Palace, toward the coach waiting beyond, Bharyt stepped forward. “I took the liberty of placing some tunics and trousers that might fit in the coach.”
“Thank you, Bharyt.”
Outside, the fog was far thicker than earlier, and Dainyl could not even see the Hall of Justice to the north.
“Highest? Back to the Hall, sir?” asked the driver.
“Yes, please.” Dainyl stepped up into the coach and closed the door. Clearly, the driver had either asked Bharyt or seen the purple and green garments laid out on the other bench seat.
The ride back was slower, short as it was, because of the fog, and because the driver had to wait at the boulevard for several carriages to pass.
When the coach came to a halt at the steps of the Hall of Justice, Dainyl opened the coach door.
Before he could gather up the High Alectors’ raiment, the driver called down, “Sir…in this wet and damp, best you send someone up for the garments.”
Dainyl considered the words and then nodded. While he preferred to handle personal matters himself, somehow, it wouldn’t have been exactly decorous to return as High Alector of Justice with an armful of garments proclaiming the change. “I will, thank you.”
He hurried up the steps and then took the concealed staircase down to the lower level, not that he needed to worry that much, because the Hall was empty of petitioners, and Dalyrt had left the dais already.
Adya, Cartalyn, and an assistant Dainyl did not know stepped out into the corridor. “Sir?”
“The Duarch was most understanding.” Dainyl handed the scroll to Adya. “This should be posted
somewhere.”
“Sir?”
“Oh…I’m sorry. It’s the writ of my appointment as High Alector of Justice.”
She bowed her head. “Highest…”
“‘Sir’ will do. Oh…there are some garments—the official garb of the High Alector of Justice—in the coach. Could you have someone bring them down?”
“Patrylon,” Adya told the alector standing at her shoulder, “you can do that, and I’ll post the writ.”
“Thank you both.”
Adya scurried down the corridor in one direction past the Table chamber, while the stocky Patrylon marched toward the staircase. Cartalyn followed Patrylon.
Dainyl looked into the private study. Thankfully, someone, probably Adya, had removed Zelyert’s garments and boots. He stepped inside and surveyed the chamber. Besides the table and the three chairs, there was little enough in the manner of furnishings, just a single low bookcase of three shelves. He scanned those volumes that displayed titles on the spine, although most did not: Views of the Highest, looking so newly bound that Dainyl wondered if Zelyert had ever lifted it off the top shelf; The Administrator; History of Inefra; The Code of Laws…
Clearly, Zelyert had kept all personal items elsewhere, and Dainyl had no idea where that might have been.
He Talent-sensed someone approaching, straightened, and turned as a slender but tall alector appeared in the open doorway. Dainyl recognized Dalyrt, although he had never formally met him, because Dalyrt had substituted for Zelyert as administrator at the last administration of justice at Myrmidon headquarters.
Dalyrt bowed deeply. “Highest.”
Dainyl could sense a buried combination of consternation, puzzlement, and resentment, but decided against commenting. “A simple ‘sir’ will be more than sufficient, Dalyrt. I certainly didn’t expect it, but one refuses the Duarch at greater risk than I was prepared to undertake.” That should add to your confusion.
“I can see that might pose a problem, sir.” Dalyrt’s voice was deep, as Zelyert’s had been, and even smoother and more polished.
Dainyl instantly distrusted him, but kept the feeling well behind his shields. “The Duarch, even in these troubled times, is a formidable presence, with great experience in being able to determine whom to trust and to support. He is far more practiced in not revealing that experience than are most High Alectors, unless he chooses to do so. I am deeply convinced that he seeks the best for all alectors, and I worry that those who might oppose him do not see all that he does.”
“Yes, sir.” Dalyrt’s puzzlement grew.
“Power not only corrupts, Dalyrt. It also blinds.”
“Yes, sir. I stand to do your bidding, and I will certainly follow your guidance and heed your advice.”
So long as it seems to benefit you. “Thank you.”
Dalyrt bowed and stepped back into the corridor.
No sooner had Dalyrt departed than Chastyl appeared.
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you, Chastyl.”
“Just let me know anything I can do…”
Dainyl had the feeling that he would get little done for the next few glasses except to meet with the immediate staff of the High Alector and accept their congratulations and profession of loyalty and support. It was hard to ignore their unvoiced concerns about the green component of his aura and Talent—especially when Asulet’s warning remained in the back of his mind.
He also needed to try on the garments sent by Bharyt. That bothered him more than a little, because it meant taking off the uniform he had worn for almost all of his adult life—not that he would ever shed the heritage of being a Myrmidon.
65
It was slightly before midafternoon on Quinti when Dainyl finally took the coach to Myrmidon headquarters, feeling slightly uncomfortable in his garb as High Alector of Justice. In the end, he had found two older sets of garments—not that the lifeforce-treated shimmersilk had aged in the slightest—which suited him far better than the others. Unlike the others, they offered an almost Myrmidon cut to both tunic and trousers. The tunic and trousers were green, and the purple trim was limited to the tunic cuffs and collar, and to single thin strips down the outside of the trouser legs. He still wore his black Myrmidon boots—and intended to keep doing so.
When Dainyl stepped through the archway into Myrmidon headquarters, Captain Ghasylt was standing by the duty desk, talking to Undercaptain Chelysta. Both had worried expressions, and Ghasylt had just gestured toward the entrance.
“Good afternoon,” Dainyl said.
Ghasylt looked up and took in the tunic and trousers, his eyes widening only slightly, although the shock was far more obvious to Dainyl’s Talent than to his eyes. After the barest hesitation, the captain replied, “Congratulations…Highest.”
“You looked worried there, Ghasylt.”
“Yes, sir. When I saw the High Alector’s coach drive in…”
“I would have been concerned, too.” Dainyl smiled. “Is the submarshal in her study?”
“She was a moment ago,” added Chelysta. “She was reviewing next week’s flight schedules.”
“I need to see her. Thank you.” Dainyl walked down the corridor. Behind him, he could make out the murmurs, enhanced by his Talent.
“…never thought he’d become Highest…too honest…”
“…stronger…can’t you sense the Talent?”
“…sort of green…”
Dainyl eased open Alcyna’s door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Alcyna looked up from the flight schedule she held, took in the green and purple, then stood, leaving the schedule on the desk. She nodded slowly. “Congratulations, Highest.”
“‘Sir,’ please.”
“I said Zelyert underestimated you. I assume he decided you were a threat and created a reason to attack?”
“Generally, yes. He complained that we took too long in Soupat, that we delayed copper shipments, as well as tin shipments from closed mines, that we lost too many pteridons, and that it was all my fault. I told him if he could find any other Myrmidon who had been as effective that I would happily resign. Because he had no answer he attacked. That was early this morning. I had to spend some time with the Duarch and then with the staff at the Hall of Justice before I could get here.” He smiled wryly. “I did want to tell you that you don’t have to go back to Alustre to get command.”
“To get command?” Alcyna raised her eyebrows.
“Effective immediately, you are the Marshal of Myrmidons.” He extended the green-edged gold stars that he had taken off so recently.
Alcyna did not move to take them. “There has never been an alectress who commanded the Myrmidons. What will the Duarch say?”
“I already told him, and he agreed.” Dainyl reached forward and laid the stars on the bare wood of the table desk beside her. “There may be a personal reason there.”
“His daughter?”
“Daughters,” Dainyl said.
“There is another besides Sevasya?”
“Captain Lyzetta.” Dainyl smiled ruefully. “I didn’t know she was Khelaryt’s daughter until after I promoted her.” He almost mentioned that the shadowmatch had prohibited the Duarch from mentioning or contacting either daughter, but refrained, realizing that he had never discussed that aspect of the shadowmatch with Alcyna.
“I’m very glad I decided to come to Elcien,” Alcyna said. “Do you know what else Brekylt said about you?”
“I’m certain he said a great deal.”
“He said that you had the instincts for doing the right thing, and that it would either be your death or the death of those who opposed you, and that he preferred not to engage in those kinds of battles.”
Dainyl laughed. “He would give me too much credit, even while he was sharpening a knife.” After the briefest of pauses, he added, “Marshal Alcyna, I’d like to request that you assume command of the Myrmidons and that you put on the insignia of your rank.”
“
Yes, sir. With pleasure.” She half turned and lifted the stars off the table.
Dainyl watched as she replaced the silver stars on her collar with the gold stars. Then he motioned for her to take her seat and settled into the chair in front of the table desk.
“Now…who would you suggest as your replacement as submarshal?” he asked.
“At the moment, I would prefer not to name a replacement, sir.”
Dainyl thought he understood why, but still felt he had to ask. “Why is that?”
“Submarshal Noryan would be the logical choice, assuming that he shows his loyalty to the Duarches.”
“You wish to wait to see his reaction?”
“We would have to wait until he has a chance to receive orders. If they’re not delayed, the orders should reach Noryan in Norda on Decdi or Londi, no later than Duadi.” Alcyna smiled politely and added, “As I recall, there was no official submarshal in Elcien when you were the head of operations for several months.”
“That’s true, but all you have now is an assistant chief of operations.”
“Zernylta is doing well at that. In another year, I could promote her to majer, and make the position of operations chief that of either majer or colonel.”
That certainly squared with where Dainyl had been headed as marshal. “What other changes would you suggest for Myrmidon operations or headquarters?”
“We need more trainees and the ability to call them from Transport immediately.”
“You don’t think we should skip the time spent as a sandox driver?” Dainyl didn’t, but he wanted her reaction.
“No, sir. First, until they work with either sandoxen or pteridons, there’s no way of telling whether their Talent is strong enough and suited to Talent creatures. Second, there’s too much power involved with being a Myrmidon. Sandoxen have some of that power, and being a driver for a time makes younger alectors aware of that power, and it also gives them the sense that it is both a duty and a privilege to be a Myrmidon.”
Dainyl nodded, but his thoughts strayed to the Myrmidons from Ifryn. Were they as dedicated as the alectors and alectresses he commanded? Or had it been that conditions had become so bad on Ifryn that the desire for sheer self-preservation had overwhelmed their sense of duty? Or had they simply felt betrayed?
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