Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

"We all are. But you're right. There are references to alectors in the old histories."

  "You've read those?"

  "I used to. Grandpa Kustyl has a whole shelf of them. No one else was interested. I didn't tell anyone but him."

  Alucius smiled. He'd been married to Wendra for close to five years and known her for more than three before that, and she'd never mentioned the histories. Was marriage like that, always discovering something new? "Did those histories say anything else about the soarers?"

  "No. They didn't say anything about soarers or sanders. The writers mentioned the Myrmidons, the alectors, the sandoxes, the pteridons… even Cadmians. I always thought that was strange, especially when I was younger. I'd seen soarers and sanders, and they weren't in the books, and the creatures that were in the books were ones I'd never seen."

  Alucius squeezed her hand, gently. "Some of the books I read in the quarters' libraries in Madrien said that the soarers were mythical creatures, that they didn't exist. I wondered if that was because they never lived in the south."

  "They must like the cold more."

  "I don't think they like it where it's warm and damp."

  "There couldn't have been very many of them, ever, do you think?" asked Wendra.

  "The soarer told me that Corus used to be colder and drier. There were probably more when it was. There had to have been more soarers then than there are now. I got out of the room I was in, and I saw enough to know how empty that city was. They wouldn't have built a city if there weren't enough soarers to live there." But had he seen enough? Or had he only seen what the soarer wanted him to see?

  "Did she ever tell you why they were dying off?"

  "No… only that they were, and that there were very few of them, and that before long there wouldn't be any left."

  "They live a long time. So that might be a while."

  Abruptly an intense green light—a line narrow as a wand—flared skyward from the Plateau, its width constant, and for a moment, as it lanced toward the small green disc of Asterta, it was brighter than the setting sun had been a fraction of a glass earlier.

  "What was that?" asked Wendra.

  "I don't know. I've never seen anything like that."

  "You think… like your grandmother… herders?"

  "The death of a soarer?" suggested Alucius. "It could be. I don't know why they would commemorate it the same way we do. We want Selena in the sky, but only Asterta is now…" He broke off his words, considering what the soarer had told him years before.

  "What is it?"

  "They helped make us what we are. You could be right. We might be following their example, except for the choice of moon."

  "Asterta's green. So are soarers," Wendra pointed out. "Their lifethreads and radiance, anyway."

  "I wonder…" mused Alucius.

  "Maybe all herders are soarer's children. You are."

  "So are you," he pointed out.

  "Those with Talent, then." Wendra continued to look at the Plateau, but the single line of green light had vanished, and the crystal parapets of the towering Plateau were shrouded in shadow, no longer reflecting the sun.

  Alucius also watched, and the porch was silent for a time.

  "I wonder." Alucius paused. "The soarer said that we had been brought here by the ifrits. Did I tell you that?"

  "No. You mean people? Not us, but people a long time ago?"

  "Yes. She said that… that we were meant to be like cattle for the ifrits."

  "Where did they bring people from?"

  "She didn't say. She said so much that was new—I didn't ask. I should have."

  "It makes sense," Wendra mused. "The ifrits feed on lifeforce, or they use it."

  "That's true."

  "What I don't understand is… well… most people have lifethreads that are brown or tan or amber, except herders. Most herders are black shot with green. You're green. I'm green, but we didn't used to be, did we?"

  "No," he admitted. "You were black with flashes of green. I didn't know how to look at myself then, but I'd guess I was, too."

  "But we're green now. Why?"

  "Because… somehow, greater use of Talent turns the lifethread green. That's a guess, but it seems to be true. Herders with more Talent have more green in their lifethreads. Maybe it shows a greater tie to all of Corus. The soarers have been here forever… a long time, anyway, and they're green."

  "What about the sanders?" Wendra asked.

  "I never looked that closely, but I always thought of them as red-violet."

  "And the ifrits are purple?"

  "Both feed on lifeforce," mused Alucius. "I hadn't thought of it that way." He shook his head once more. "Then, there are a lot of things I didn't think of before I met you." He turned to face her directly, grinning.

  "I'm sure you did," Wendra replied, blushing.

  "Supper's ready, you two," Lucenda's voice carried out from the kitchen.

  "We'll be right there," Alucius promised, taking a last look at the Plateau, wondering what other mysteries lay there, and what else he should have asked the soarer when he had had the chance.

  Chapter 18

  Tempre, Lanachrona

  « ^ »

  As he settled into the chair across from the settee where his consort and wife was seated, the Lord-Protector looked over at the infant at Alerya's breast. He couldn't help but smile. "He's happy."

  "Contented, at least. He wasn't so good earlier. Not nearly so good," replied Alerya. "How did your meetings and briefings go?"

  "As well as I could expect." Talryn shook his head. "It's hard to drag things out of people when they don't like telling you bad news."

  "You're most worried, are you not?"

  "More than I'd ever admit to anyone but you, dearest. Nothing seems to be going right. We're close to losing Southgate. The Northern Guard has been pushed back toward Harmony. The traders have already begun to petition me about the higher tariffs being levied by the Deforyan Council. The revolt continues in Hyalt, and some of the believers have been agitating in Syan. The nomads in Ongelya slaughtered a trader's caravan. Then this business with Waleryn. He's always been difficult. You know how he was plotting with Enyll, and with all this going on, I get a note from him saying that he's on his way to Lustrea concealed as a trader, and that I'll be pleased to learn what he has discovered when he returns." Talryn snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was behind half of this and was leaving before I discovered it."

  "How could he be?" asked Alerya.

  "I don't know. But if it were possible, he would be." Talryn stood and walked to the sideboard, from which he took out a bottle and half filled a goblet. "Would you like some?"

  "If you will water it down." Alerya made a face.

  "I know, but too much wine…" Talryn poured the ruby wine into a second goblet, then added the boiled and cooled water from the crystal decanter. "Here."

  "Just set it there, beside me, dear, if you would."

  Talryn set his wife's wine on the end table, then, taking his own goblet, seated himself across from her.

  "Have you had any word from Frynkel? About the overcaptain?" asked Alerya.

  "I don't expect word anytime soon. It's a long journey."

  "Do you think that the overcaptain will accept your request?"

  "I hope so, especially now. I gave Frynkel some latitude in what he could offer."

  "Such as?"

  "Some terms that might help me a great deal." Talryn smiled, but did not say more.

  "You can be… difficult, Talryn." Alerya smiled. "But… so can I… in my own way. Perhaps young Talus needs my company tonight."

  "That's…"

  "Blackmail?" Alerya's smile turned mischievous. "It is indeed."

  Talryn began to laugh. After he stopped, he added, with a grin, "I suppose I deserved that."

  "You did." She raised her eyebrows. "What terms?"

  "Oh… Colonel Weslyn has not been exactly effective, and I don't trust him. I suggested that Frynkel
offer Alucius the command of the Northern Guard if he is successful in quelling the revolt in Hyalt."

  "You are a true schemer, my love." Alerya shook her head. "You know the poor overcaptain—or majer—will have to accept, if only to save his people." She frowned. "You will honor that promise if he succeeds?"

  "I'd be pleased to honor it. He'll go off as a majer, and if he's successful, I'll send a full company of Southern Guards back to Dekhron with him, along with his own companies. No one could possibly complain—not too much, anyway—if I promote the greatest hero in Northern Guard history. Besides, he inspires his officers and men, and Weslyn inspires no one, except the conniving traders in Dekhron. Young as Alucius is, he'll be far better than Weslyn."

  "And you'd have a much more cooperative Northern Guard? Or at least one better run and more reasonable?"

  "Those were my thoughts. 'Better run' would be a great improvement." Talryn's grin broadened. "You did tell me to be generous. I hope you will be."

  Alerya burst into laughter.

  After a moment, so did Talryn.

  Chapter 19

  « ^ »

  Late on Octdi afternoon, under high gray clouds, Wendra and Alucius were nearing the eastern base of Westridge, guiding the nightsheep flock back to the stead. Wendra was riding lead, with Alucius bringing up the stragglers. After all of his precautions for the past three days, neither Alucius nor Wendra had seen any sign of any Talent-creatures or even sandwolves. Nor had Royalt on the day he had taken the flock. All they had seen or sensed were grayjays, scrats, and one or two sandsnakes.

  Then, Alucius reflected to himself, they had prepared for the Talent-creatures, and usually the worst dangers and difficulties he had encountered were those for which he had not foreseen or prepared. That just seemed to be the way of the world.

  "Alucius!" Wendra called back.

  He looked toward her, then saw, farther west, his grandsire just below the crest of Westridge, riding downhill and toward them, far more quickly than usual. After several moments, it was clear that the older herder was heading toward Alucius.

  Had something happened to his mother? Alucius forced himself to concentrate on moving the stragglers along and up toward the main body of the flock so that he wouldn't have to worry as much about them if he needed to hurry the flock. Other than that, he certainly couldn't do anything about whatever spurred Royalt on until he heard what his grandsire had to say.

  As he neared Alucius, Royalt gestured toward Wendra, urging her to join them.

  That made sense, because the lead ram was already on the path that led home and to the shelter of the stead barns. If any of the flock faced danger, it would be the stragglers, although most sandwolves were unlikely to attack close to a stead, especially with three herders nearby.

  As Royalt neared Alucius and turned his mount to parallel Alucius and the gray, Wendra urged her mount back toward Alucius and Royalt.

  "What's wrong?" Alucius asked. "Has something happened at the stead? Has something happened to Mother?"

  "No one's hurt. Nothing's broken, but things are looking… not so good," Royalt said. "I'd like Wendra to hear what's happened."

  Alucius refrained from asking again, although he wondered why Royalt didn't want to say immediately, then tell Wendra when she joined them. Both herders kept moving the stragglers up the slope, waiting until Wendra rode up on the other side of Royalt, so that the older herder rode in the middle.

  "What is it?" asked Wendra.

  "It's for Alucius, but I thought you both would like a little warning. There's a Southern Guard officer waiting to talk to you, Alucius. Brought more than a whole company of Southern Guards and a couple of Northern Guard scouts. Says he's a marshal. Named Frynkel." Royalt glanced at his grandson. "You know him?"

  Alucius's whole body stiffened, and he tried to make his words even, measured. "There is a Marshal Frynkel. Well, he was a submarshal then. I met him. I even had dinner with him and the Lord-Protector's arms-commander. That was Marshal Wyerl. I suppose he still is."

  "No…" murmured Wendra, so low that Alucius barely heard the word, although her body posture told him as much as that single syllable.

  "Worse yet," said Royalt. "I don't like it that they're sending a marshal and one that you know personally, all the way from Lanachrona. Marshals don't ride days or weeks to see herders. Not without the kind of reason I'd rather not hear."

  Alucius was sure he didn't want to hear what Frynkel had to say, either, because they wanted something, and it was likely that they thought he would have to accept, whatever it was.

  "You have any idea why?" asked the older herder.

  "They've got real trouble, I'd guess. But… why would they want me?"

  "Because you're one of the best troop commanders in the north, and because Weslyn's too stupid to know it."

  "He's not too stupid. He knows it. He just doesn't care for me. And the traders who back him don't like herders."

  "Same thing. Officer who lets his personal feelings get in the way is second-rate. At best."

  "Weslyn's not with him?"

  "No. Didn't see any Northern Guard officers."

  That meant that the Lord-Protector wanted something, and whatever it was, it was most likely that he didn't want the commander of the Northern Guard to know until afterward. And that would leave Alucius in a very bad position with regard to Weslyn—unless the Lord-Protector wanted Alucius as an officer in the Southern Guard, and that could be even worse.

  The three split up to herd the flock back together for the last vingt or so of the return to the stead, across the crest of Westridge and down the western side. As they came down the western side of the long rise, Alucius could make out the riders drawn up in formation between the house and the stead outbuildings, almost all of them in the blue of the Southern Guard.

  When Alucius was but a few hundred yards from the formation, Royalt rode back over toward his grandson. "Wendra and I'll take care of the flock. You might as well see what he wants."

  Alucius nodded and turned the gray toward the four riders at the head of the formation. He reined up several yards short of them, then bowed his head slightly. "Marshal Frynkel, it's both a surprise and an honor to see you here."

  "Doubtless more a surprise than an honor," replied Frynkel. "I would request a little time alone with you, if you would not mind."

  "With your having come so far, I would be happy to grant you whatever time you might need or think necessary." Alucius gestured toward the house. "Your men could stand down. There's more than enough water in the troughs, and the outside pump offers good water for water bottles." He smiled wryly. "I cannot offer to feed everyone, not on such short notice."

  "We would appreciate the water." Frynkel looked to the captain mounted beside him. "If you would take care of the watering with all due care, Captain Geragt?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Alucius guided the gray to the pair of stone posts in front of the steps up to the house, where he dismounted and tied his mount. Frynkel followed without speaking.

  Alucius turned toward the porch where Lucenda stood, her face set in an expression that Alucius had seen but once before and had hoped he would not see again.

  Frynkel had dismounted and joined Alucius.

  Alucius raised his voice slightly. "Marshal Frynkel, this is my mother, Lucenda. Mother, this is Marshal Frynkel. Unless matters have changed, he is one of the senior marshals of all Lanachrona."

  Frynkel inclined his head. "I am honored. Your son is the finest battle commander in Corus, and the most honorable officer I have ever had the privilege of knowing."

  Frynkel's words did little to remove Alucius's apprehension.

  "Your words are kind, Marshal," returned Lucenda. "I will leave you to what must be done." She inclined her head, then turned, leaving the porch.

  "Overcaptain Alucius," began Frynkel, "I have been personally asked by the Lord-Protector to convey a request to you."

  "Why don't you come on in?" Aluc
ius suggested. "You can tell me inside." He walked up the steps, then held the door for the marshal. After following the senior officer into the foyer, he led the way to the main room.

  "Before we begin," the marshal said, "I would ask you to inspect my credentials." He extended a folder. "Please read them carefully."

  Alucius took the folder, trying not to focus on the tic in Frynkel's right eye, and concentrated on studying the commission that granted Frynkel the full powers, rights, and privileges of the Lord-Protector himself in the Iron Valleys. The second document was a letter with the Lord-Protector's seal that stated that the marshal had the right and the authority to treat as necessary with, and in a manner befitting the greatest of respect for, one Alucius, former and present overcaptain of the Northern Guard. After a time, the herder handed the folder back. "If you would like to sit…"

  "Thank you." Frynkel settled into the armchair that had been the favorite of Alucius's grandmother. "Comfortable chair."

  "My family's always liked it. Especially my grandmother."

  "She had good judgment." Frynkel smiled, leaning forward, his eyes directly on Alucius. "You know that the Lord-Protector owes you a great deal and that he respects you greatly." His eye twitched once.

  "He must have a great need, to send you here," Alucius replied.

  "He has a request of you. It is a request because he also is a man of his word, and he promised you that he would not call you or order you back to service. But the need is great, and he asked me to tell you what that need is in explaining his request." Frynkel absently smoothed back the few thin strands of black hair remaining in the center of a balding head, then pressed the edge of his palm against his right eye for a moment.

  "Please do." Alucius could feel a chill settling over him. Whatever it was, the few Talent-creatures on the stead paled before what was about to happen. What bothered him most was the feeling of directness and honesty within the marshal. That was truly frightening.

  "You may know that the Regent of the Matrial has constructed a second crystal spear-thrower. That means that there is now one in the northern reaches of Madrien and one in the south…"