Dainyl nodded slowly. Another aspect of the intrigue among High Alectors had become clear. “Then I think I can say with some confidence that Ruvryn was working closely with former marshal Shastylt. Shastylt applied modified shadowmatches to several Cadmian majers and a colonel to the end of increasing Cadmian casualties in Dramur.”
“I cannot say that surprises me.”
Dainyl had the sense that Khelaryt did not totally disapprove, and that meant Dainyl needed to be very cautious. “There is a delicate balance there.”
“I would agree, but I would suggest that Ruvryn is not always against our interests.”
“I will keep that in mind, sir.”
“There is another aspect of matters of which I have not apprised you,” Khelaryt said quietly. “Why do you suppose that Majer Sevasya is stationed in Lysia?” He smiled. “Thank you for her promotion, not that she had not deserved it years before.”
“As you said, sir, she deserved it.” Dainyl had wondered why she had been stationed in Lysia ever since he had become submarshal and discovered that Sevasya was Khelaryt’s daughter. “I assume there is another reason besides her being remote enough that it would be difficult to influence you, sir, but I do not know what it is.”
“The dual scepters are often considered as legendary or mythical. They are not.”
“One of them is in Lysia, then.” Dainyl frowned. Where else would the other be? “Is the other in Dereka?”
Khelaryt had not been at all surprised at Dainyl’s first conclusion, but he could not conceal his concern about the second one. “How did you know that?”
“I did not know it until you raised the issue of the dual scepters. Only then did it make sense that Jonyst had to be the other guardian, given who he is and the stress he has been under lately. Also, it was once a city of the ancients. There must have been some reason dealing with Talent for why they located a city in a place not ideally suited to their…physical needs.”
“There was indeed. It is one of the major lifeforce focal points of Acorus. I can only surmise that Samist also agreed to the choice of Lystrana as regional alector because she would certainly not wish the scepter compromised, nor would you.”
“No, sir.”
“The entire translation tube network on Acorus—as well as the long translation tubes—owe their stability to the existence and the placement of the two scepters. It is an unspoken rule that they be left alone, where they are. They are not where they might seem to be, and that is all you need to know.”
Dainyl nodded once more.
Khelaryt continued to bring up various items, from the timing of the meetings with his High Alectors to the limitations of the great ships of the ocean and the intricacies of their schedules.
Finally, he paused and looked at Dainyl. “Do you have any other questions?”
“One, sir. I spent my first morning receiving petitions, as you know, and one of them came from a small factor—”
Khelaryt laughed, but the sound was more mournful than the hearty and humor-filled guffaws Dainyl had heard before. “The bribery of the merchant inspectors, no doubt. The small factors cheat, and they get caught, but the large ones do not because they bribe the inspectors. Yet, if we do anything…”
“I fear I have trouble understanding this.” What Dainyl feared was that he did in fact understand it.
“Golds rule the indigens and landers in trade. They have no sense of ethics, only a desire to amass the largest amount of gold possible and to live in the greatest luxury. Your most honest steers are Cadmians. That is because treachery there will kill too many men. Otherwise, they would be like all the others, and often, the senior officers are.”
Always the golds, reflected Dainyl. That was the weakness of landers and indigens. But then, the love of power, to the equal exclusion of practical sense, was the weakness of alectors.
“That will have to be all for now,” announced the Duarch, standing abruptly.
Dainyl rose quickly. “I appreciate your time and the information.”
“Just remember, Dainyl, to make sure that you understand how something came to be before you attempt to change it. I will see you at next week’s meeting of the High Alectors.”
As he left the Palace, Dainyl couldn’t help but recall the Duarch’s last words. But what if you do understand and no one wishes to change a course for disaster?
He also still worried about the green flash. Was it connected to the green Talent force he had perceived when he had been traveling between Tables?
69
Once it was clear that the initial chaos had passed, Mykel immediately sent off a dispatch rider to Dekhron with an initial report on the damage to Colonel Herolt and a copy to the Marshal of Myrmidons. One of the river tugs could get the dispatch to both far faster than the next sandox coach would.
Although all of his company officers had reported that they had established and were maintaining order throughout Iron Stem, Mykel decided that he needed a firsthand view of what had happened. Even so, he waited until well past midafternoon before he finally mounted the roan and, in the company of fifth squad from Fifteenth Company, began his inspection tour. The light snow had long since ceased, but the sky remained covered with featureless gray clouds.
“It’s pretty bad around the works, sir,” offered Vhanyr, the squad leader, as he and Mykel turned their mounts south on the high road.
“How many houses damaged?”
“Hard to tell, sir. The water’s down, now. Ironworks got hit the hardest.”
“That’s not surprising. Their dam was what broke.”
“It’s worse than that, sir. You’ll see.”
Mykel knew he would, but he studied the area adjoining the Cadmian garrison. The school to the immediate south of the garrison appeared untouched, as did the smaller dwellings. Beginning some two hundred yards south of the school, large puddles remained on both sides of the road, and less than a quarter vingt beyond that the watermarks on the houses were nearly a yard high, and still damp.
The doors of some of the lower hovels were open, and women were still sweeping out water and setting chairs, stools, and other furnishings on porches or other raised areas. Mykel didn’t see bedding, which suggested that while the water had gotten into the houses, it hadn’t been high enough to damage everything. He doubted that the furniture had been set out to dry, given the chill of the day, but probably to clear the floors so the water could be swept out.
As Mykel neared the works, he could see more damage, and higher watermarks. A heap of brick and ashes was all that remained of one small house, and several sheds had been flattened. Bedraggled chickens squawked and fluttered away from the road, and two boys struggled with ropes to drag a pig toward a sagging fence.
Once past that section of houses, Mykel turned his mount onto the road heading to the works, covered with a thin film of water. The water in the loading yard of the works was boot deep, and occasional gusts of warm damp air mixed with the colder winter air.
Mykel reined up well short of the fallen wall stones that had marked the boundary between the loading areas and the works itself. He looked westward, at the steam that sifted upward out of the heaps of rubble that stretched more than a vingt westward. He had not realized that the works was that large—almost a half vingt north to south, and three times that from east to west. Not a chimney remained standing, nor was any structure intact.
Groups of men and teams of the draft horses were working, dragging equipment from fallen buildings, digging a channel, and pulling down a tottering wall. Mykel found it hard to take in the scope of the destruction.
A figure in a splattered coverall turned and walked toward the Cadmians from the wreckage of what had been the works headquarters building. After a moment, Mykel recognized the engineer. “Curosyn?”
“The same, Majer.” His eyes lingered on Mykel’s empty sleeve for but a moment.
“The earthquake and flood—it did all this?”
“Combine cracke
d furnaces, water, steam, molten metal, partly cured coke, and that’s what you get. It’ll be months, maybe years, before we can put everything back together. This is a works, not just furnaces. The coking ovens pretty much exploded, and the furnaces did too after the earthquake cracked them. Molten metal, coke, limestone—it’s a mess. Some of the coal piles feeding the ovens caught fire. It may be weeks before some of them burn out. We must have lost a hundred men from the fire, explosions, and the steam.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t imagine there’s much we can do.”
“Just keeping order was a help. The High Alector of Engineering won’t be happy with this.” Curosyn gestured toward the devastation. “Excuse me, Majer.”
“We’ll talk later.” Mykel turned the roan.
As he rode back to the high road, he could sense the heat at his back.
“We’ll ride through the town square and then east,” he told Vhanyr.
The buildings around the square, on slightly higher ground than the works, seemed largely undamaged, although Mykel could make out several missing shutters on the inn, and one window with batting or fabric behind the shutters, suggesting that the glass had broken.
Despite what Curosyn had said, Mykel had his doubts that the earthquake and flood had created all the damage. The green Talent flash suggested that the soarers not only had been involved, but that the destruction had been planned—and possibly even abetted or enhanced around the ironworks. The destruction in the rest of Iron Stem had been modest, at least in comparison. But why the ironworks?
He hadn’t the faintest idea, and all he could do for the moment was to keep order and hope that the Reillies and Squawts didn’t move up their attacks on him and the Cadmians.
70
Septi morning found Mykel back behind the small writing desk. Iron Stem was quiet, according to the reports from all the patrols, although there were still fires in parts of the ironworks, and probably would be for days. One of Rhystan’s scouts reported that the Reillies were still gathered south of Wesrigg, but that there were signs that they might move out before long, and some of those signs were weapons being cleaned.
Mykel looked at the map spread before him. From where the Reillies were situated, they could take one of two easily traveled routes, the farm road to Borlan, or the high road to Iron Stem. If they took the Borlan road, Third Battalion could take the high road south, and then the cutoff through Sudon to the ridges overlooking the farm road. The valley there was narrow, and if Fourth Battalion sealed the road to the north…
All that was theoretical, unless the Reillies did decide to attack, rather than disband and head into the hills to their homes for the winter.
Finally, one-handed and slowly, he refolded the map. What he ordered the battalions to do would depend on what the Reillies did. If he were more calculating—like an alector—he would have just attacked the Reillie encampment, with all the women and children. Tempting as that was, he felt that he had to let them make the first move. After that…he shook his head.
He took out the unsigned letter from Rachyla and laid it on the wood, reading the few lines carefully once again, although he already knew every word. Should he reply?
There was no question about that. The real question was how to frame the reply in a fashion that only Rachyla would understand fully, since Mykel could hardly count on his missive reaching her unread.
In the end, writing his response was physically laborious and required using his left hand. More than a glass passed before he finished. Then he read it over, slowly and carefully.
Lady Rachyla,
It has come to my attention that rumors may have circulated as to my recent injuries. I would have written sooner to assure you and the most honorable Amaryk that Third Battalion remains in good order and strength despite a number of strange occurrences in Iron Stem, which include a flood and an earthquake. These resulted in severe damage to the ironworks, and with the existing damage to the piers at Dekhron, that may well affect the price and availability of worked iron for some time, as well as other metals, and for coal as well. These facts might be of interest to you and your family, since they are matters of substance and affect power.
I would also convey my best wishes to the most worthy Amaryk and to your aunt, with my hopes that all of you are well, and that you may all realize your own deepest hopes in these troubling times.
I also must apologize for the penmanship of this letter, but because of the nature of the injuries to my arm, it will be some time before grace returns to the form of my correspondence, but I have been assured that it will, as surely as both edges of a good and ancient dagger can cut sharply, yet serve high purposes for both factors and their families.
He would have liked to have said more, but he had to assume that anything he sent would be read. He hoped that the reference to the ironworks and trade would at least partly mollify Amaryk and Elbaryk, if either did indeed even see the missive.
He addressed it to the Chatelaine Rachyla, in care of Amaryk, Factor for the Seltyr Elbaryk in Tempre. Later in the day, he would ride into town and take care of getting it sent.
“Sir?” One of the Fourth Battalion rankers stood in his doorway. “One of the outholders to see you.”
“Have him come in, if he will.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shortly, the tall and muscled outholder walked into the study.
Out of courtesy, Mykel stood. “Outholder.”
Croyalt looked at Mykel, taking in the arm still bound in the sling. “So it’s true, is it? You took on a Reillie sniper squad and the warleader and took them all down, and killed him after you took a crossbow bolt?”
“I didn’t get all the snipers,” Mykel replied.
Croyalt laughed, a booming sound that filled the small study. Then he asked, “How many?”
“Five snipers.”
“Most Cadmians don’t get one in a career. No wonder they…” He shook his head.
Mykel wondered what the outholder had been about to say.
Croyalt looked squarely at Mykel once more. “I have to congratulate you, if reluctantly. I am told that you deployed your entire force immediately after the flood and earthquake to keep order, and that your men took care of looters and other thieves in the only way that they should be handled.”
“Keeping order is one of our assigned duties, Outholder Croyalt.”
“So I’ve been told, but you’re the first from headquarters who seems to understand that.”
Mykel waited. He had the feeling that was not why the outholder had come to see him.
“I also thought you should know that both the Reillies and the Squawts have declared you a blood enemy of their peoples. They will begin their efforts against you and your forces on Decdi.”
Mykel smiled. “I’m sorry for them, then.”
“Sorry for them? They must number four times your force.”
“All that means is that four times as many will die, and there’s no need for it.”
“Majer…maybe not for you, there’s no need for it, but for them, they live for fighting. You and the alectors want to turn them into upland farmers or growers, or foresters or whatever. They do those things to support themselves until it’s time to go into battle.”
“Most of them don’t make good Cadmians. We’ve tried.”
“Of course they don’t,” snorted Croyalt. “They’re not soldiers. They’re warriors.”
What could Mykel say to that? The world didn’t need warriors. Even as he was beginning to understand the need for soldiers, he saw no need for the kinds of people Croyalt called warriors. What was the point of fighting for the sake of fighting, whatever the rationale?
“They fight for honor, and to prove their bravery,” Croyalt added.
“I hear what you say, Outholder, and I do appreciate your explanation. But I think it’s a poor excuse for a man who has to prove bravery by killing anything, whether it be an animal or another man. We may have to slaughter anima
ls to eat, and I may have to kill Reillies and insurgents and sandwolves to keep order and protect those who cannot protect themselves, but I see no honor in the act of killing anything, even if it is necessary.”
Croyalt opened his mouth, then closed it.
Mykel waited for a moment, then added, “I do thank you for coming, and for the information about the Reillies and the Squawts. I don’t mean to offend you, and I trust you will take my words as a statement of what I believe and not as an attack upon you.”
The outholder nodded slowly. “You just might be right in pitying the Squawts and Reillies.” He smiled, an expression that Mykel’s Talent interpreted as one embodying elements of sadness and chagrin. “I’ll be seeing you, Majer.”
“Until then, Outholder.”
Mykel did not settle back into his chair for several moments.
71
There were far fewer petitioners in the upper Hall of Justice on Septi, and Dainyl and Patrylon finished well before noon.
“Word gets out quickly,” Dainyl said once they were headed down to the lower level.
“The number of petitioners will go up again next week, sir,” replied the younger alector. “There are those who have studied what you have said, and they will bring petitions crafted along those lines.”
That hardly appealed to Dainyl. “I suppose Dalyrt should accompany me one of these times, so that he knows how I judge.”
“He has studied my notes, but that is a matter for each High Alector to decide, sir.”
“Notes help, but experience is invaluable,” Dainyl replied with a laugh. “It’s also more costly.”
Patrylon nodded.
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