Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Yet, there was little he could do about that, not at the moment. He had no way of knowing if Weslyn had simply met an ifrit, not even recognizing it, or was a marginal agent of the ifrits. And what was he going to do? Tell Frynkel that ifrits existed and that, because Weslyn had been near one, Alucius would have to back out of the mission to Hyalt?

  He tried to use his Talent to get a better feel about the vague purple-ness that hovered around Weslyn's lifethread, but the feeling was so dispersed that he had no way of tracking it or knowing if Weslyn were even aware of being influenced. Or, in fact, if the senior officer was being affected.

  "You've been tasked with a rather important mission by the Lord-Protector," Weslyn finally said. "How well you do will certainly reflect on the entire Northern Guard." The colonel's smile was warm and professional, and Alucius trusted it little.

  "I do understand that, and that was something I had to think over. Yet, if I rejected a request from the Lord-Protector," Alucius replied, "that would not have spoken well for either the Iron Valleys or the Northern Guard." He offered a disarming smile and a shrug. "So I thought that the best course was to accept."

  "Ah, yes. If one faces difficult situations, it is always better to try and fail than fail to try."

  "But it is far better to try and to succeed," Alucius replied politely. "That is my goal. As it has always been."

  "You've been most fortunate in that, and the Guard sincerely hopes that fortune will continue to follow you."

  Alucius could sense that Weslyn was suggesting luck as the reason for Alucius's past success almost to annoy the younger officer. So he forced another smile. "We will certainly welcome luck, but we won't be relying on good fortune. It's safer that way."

  "That it is. Let us hope you have that fortune as well."

  Alucius paused slightly, then asked, "Could I ask how the Lord-Protector's campaign to the west is coming?"

  Weslyn tilted his head, offering a hearty smile, the false one that Alucius had disliked from the first time he'd seen it. "The campaign is progressing entirely as planned. I am sure that the marshal can tell you whatever else you wish to know on your way to Tempre. I assume he will be returning there with you."

  In short, Alucius decided, the advances were stalled in the northwest, and Weslyn wouldn't know about the southwest, and the colonel wasn't about to admit anything. "I'm glad to hear that." He smiled politely again.

  Weslyn returned the smile. "I do appreciate your courtesy in stopping to see me."

  "I could do no less," Alucius replied. "Not for a commander who has always been most supportive and who has spoken so eloquently on behalf of the Guard." That sentence did not quite choke Alucius, although it was certainly true to the letter of the words.

  Weslyn paused, as if he had not quite expected the answer, before replying. "We wish you the very best in your efforts in Hyalt. I will not keep you. I know you have much to do." He rose from behind the desk.

  Alucius stood quickly as well. "Thank you." He paused, then asked quickly, "I had heard you would be meeting with the Traders' Council. Is this a new council? I had thought the old one…" He let the words drift off.

  "Oh… this is just a group of traders who decided to meet because they felt they needed to act together in these troubled times."

  "Thank you. I hadn't heard about that." Alucius bowed his head briefly. "By your leave, sir?"

  Weslyn nodded, and Alucius left the study, closing the door gently behind him.

  Feran was actually standing outside the colonel's office, talking to Marshal Frynkel. "… worried some about the ammunition… hard to get south of the Vedra… larger bore…"

  "We made provisions for that…"

  Both men broke off speaking and turned toward Alucius.

  Feran didn't look much older… not to Alucius. He had the same brown hair, except with a touch more gray, the same deep lines radiating from the corners of his eyes, gray eyes that still held the hint of a twinkle, and a sense of not taking everything in life too seriously—only the important matters. He smiled warmly. "Alucius… or should I say 'Majer'?"

  "Feran… it's good to see you. And you did make overcaptain."

  The older Northern Guard officer laughed. "Not much before you made majer, I think."

  Alucius looked to Marshal Frynkel.

  The marshal nodded. "He also holds a temporary commission as an overcaptain in the Southern Guard. It ensures a clear chain of command."

  That made sense to Alucius. It also suggested a difficult campaign.

  "After you and Overcaptain Feran have taken care of what you need, and after I say a few more words to Colonel Weslyn, I'd like to suggest that the three of us and Captain Geragt have supper at the Red Ram," said the marshal. "Say, a glass from now?"

  Alucius looked to Feran.

  Feran nodded.

  "Yes, sir," Alucius told Frynkel.

  "I'll see you outside the senior officers' quarters then." Frynkel turned and walked past the ranker straight to Weslyn's door, opening it and letting himself in.

  Feran smothered a smile.

  "Why don't we go on outside?" suggested Alucius.

  "Sir? Majer Alucius?" interjected the ranker. "You have the second of the senior officers' rooms, between the marshal and Overcaptain Feran."

  "Thank you."

  Alucius didn't say more until they were outside the building, and he had untied his mount and walked the gray toward the stables. Then he looked at Feran. "What's really happening out west?"

  "We're about to get our asses handed to us, unless winter comes early." Feran shook his head. "Most of the men are relieved to be headed south."

  "Is this… Regent that good a commander? I can't believe… all the collared troops would fight…"

  "We've invaded them. The past fades pretty quick when your enemies are at your doorstep. We're seen as Lanachronans now. That doesn't help."

  "Do you think she has gotten the collars working again?" Alucius didn't see how that was possible, since he'd destroyed the giant crystal that controlled them, but he supposed stranger things had happened. And the Regent had to have done something to rally Madrien.

  "We didn't have enough close combat to tell. They still wore them. Couldn't tell if they were working. No one's said anything, and they were tough enough when they did have collars before." Feran shrugged.

  "You at full strength?" asked Alucius.

  "To the man. The last five just arrived from Sudon this morning."

  "How many are just out of training?"

  "It's not too bad. Twelve, and I've spread them out through all five squads. All the squad leaders are pretty good." He laughed. "They should be. You trained half of them."

  Alucius led the mount toward the open stable door. An ostler hurried up. "Sir… can I help?"

  "In a moment, after I get him stalled and unloaded." Alucius smiled at the youthful stable hand. "Any possibility of some extra grain? He's had along ride."

  "Yes, sir. We can manage that. Oh… you're in the third stall there, sir."

  Alucius ended up unsaddling and grooming the gray while he talked to Feran.

  "… heard there was another of those crystal spear-throwers…"

  "… we were on the midroad… said they used it sometimes to throw back the attack on Arwyn… another reason why the men aren't that upset about going south and not facing the Regent's lancers…"

  "What about the squad leaders you got from Twenty-first Company? Egyl and Faisyn…"

  Feran smiled. "Egyl's Fifth Company's senior squad leader, and Faisyn has first squad, and Zerdial fifth. Sawyn got sent to Eighth Company… doing fine. Anslym… he got sent to Twelfth. They got hit hard at Arwyn. He… didn't make it."

  "Sorry to hear about that…"

  "We all were. Problem is that Dyabal wasn't that good a captain."

  Alucius frowned. "Dyabal?"

  "Dysar's youngest brother—stepbrother really."

  Alucius nodded. Somehow, that figured.

/>   Before all that long, or so it seemed to Alucius, he had stowed his gear in the second room on the upper level of the quarters, the same room he had had once before—a good six yards by four, with a double-width bed, a large writing desk, twin wall lamps, an armoire, a weapons rack, boot trees, and an attached washroom. All of that was a far cry from where he had started years before as a conscript in a long barracks with over a hundred other lancers.

  Feran was waiting outside when Alucius finished washing up.

  "First time I've been put up in the fancy quarters," Feran said.

  "It's only the second time here for me."

  "They have to for you," Feran pointed out. "You know that you're the fourth-ranking officer in the entire Northern Guard?"

  "Fourth-ranking?"

  "There's Weslyn, and his deputy—"

  "Is that still Imealt?"

  Feran nodded and continued, "and there's Majer Lujat. He's in charge of everything in North Madrien."

  "How is he? I've never met him."

  "Not bad. Not quite so good as you in sensing what's happening in a battle, but he listens to his captains and squad leaders, especially the senior squad leaders, because a lot of the captains aren't that good."

  "Why not?"

  "Weslyn picked them," Feran said dryly. "Anyway, Majer Lujat's got a good feel for what companies can do what."

  "And he's still in command?"

  "The colonel has to report results to the Lord-Protector," Feran said dryly. "And Majer Lujat is only about three years from a full stipend. He's made it clear that he has no interest in serving in Dekhron."

  "Smart man," murmured Alucius.

  "I thought you were, until I heard you'd agreed to this," Feran said, the faintest smile appearing in his eyes.

  "I didn't see that I had much of a real choice. If the Lord-Protector has to shift—"

  "I know. Same tale, told again. No support, and the Guard pulls back to defend the southern part of the Iron Valleys. You herders get squeezed again." After a moment, Feran asked. "How's your wife?"

  "Lovely… helpful, and more able than I'd ever have believed." Alucius almost had said that Wendra was more Talented. He'd have to get back into the habit of being more closed-mouthed now that he was off the stead.

  "Can't tell you're still in love or anything."

  Alucius flushed.

  Feran laughed. "Wager you brought writing paper."

  "That's not even a wager. I just hope I'll have time to write." And that the messages actually get to Wendra, he added silently.

  "Here comes the marshal."

  Alucius turned. Although Frynkel had a smile on his face, as did Geragt, Alucius could sense anger in the marshal.

  "It's been a long day, a very long day," Frynkel said. "Time for a good ale."

  "I'd agree," Alucius replied.

  He found himself walking beside the marshal, who was clearly disinclined to talk, with Feran and Geragt following.

  Less than a hundred yards south of the post, the Red Ram was an old redstone building set on the corner, with ancient and narrow windows. The graying Elyset met them at the door. She smiled professionally.

  Alucius inclined his head to the proprietress, projecting warmth and friendliness, as he had done once years before. "It's good to see you again." He grinned. "You suggested the quail the last time. Is it still the tastiest thing you have?"

  Elyset laughed. "Majer or not, you're still a trooper. Don't have any quail today. No pheasant, either, but the noodles and fowl are good." She turned to Frynkel with a smile. "We don't see marshals often, and I've seen you more than a few times in the past week. Best we get you seated." She led the way toward the corner beside a cold hearth covered with a wicker screen. "Be quiet here this evening."

  Frynkel took the seat in the corner, and Alucius sat to his left, across from Feran.

  Instead of a server coming to the table, Elyset stayed. "Expect you know the drinks—ale, lager, wine. Right now, we've got stew. Always stew. Lamb cutlets, and the Vedra chicken with the heavy noodles. And lymbyl."

  "I'll have ale and lymbyl," Frynkel said. "And the heavy dark bread."

  Alucius had never liked the eel-like lymbyl. "The ale… and you suggested the fowl and noodles. Is that the Vedra chicken?"

  "That's it. You want it?"

  "Yes, with the dark bread, too."

  Feran and Geragt both opted for the chicken, and Feran took ale, but Geragt asked for wine.

  The drinks arrived almost as soon as Elyset left, brought by a taller and younger woman.

  Frynkel lifted his ale. "To a successful campaign."

  "To a successful campaign," echoed the other officers.

  Even as he repeated the words, Alucius wondered how one judged a campaign against a revolt or a rebellion as successful, but he merely took a swallow of the ale and waited to see what else the marshal might offer.

  "You know this won't be the usual campaign," Frynkel said after a long swallow of ale.

  "I imagine not," Alucius replied. "Dead people don't pay tariffs, and if the rebels believe deeply, you either have to kill very few or all of them."

  A puzzled expression flitted across Geragt's face. Feran offered the hint of an amused smile.

  Frynkel chuckled. "You've been thinking." He turned toward Geragt.

  "He's right. If the rebels believe deeply that the Lord-Protector is wrong or evil, for every man that the majer kills, two others will take up arms. That's because the deaths will prove to others that the Lord-Protector is evil."

  "Or something like that," murmured Feran under his breath.

  "Needless to say, it couldn't have come at a worse time, which is why it did," added the marshal, lifting his right hand to his eye to calm it. "We not only have to fight the Regent, but attacks on Southgate by Dramurian warships, and unrest by our own merchants who want tariffs lowered because the costs of all goods traded anywhere outside of Lanachrona are going up. Of course, we need higher tariffs to protect the merchants and traders, but they don't see that."

  "Why is all this happening now?" asked Feran.

  "Because people take advantage of weakness, I'd judge," replied Frynkel. "The True Duarchists have been preaching against the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona for generations. There was a small revolt there when the Lord Talryn's grandsire was Lord-Protector. They waited until they thought the time was right, when they thought that the Lord-Protector couldn't bring many troops to Hyalt. It could be they figured he might well ignore it, because it's out of the way."

  "So why didn't he, sir?" pressed Feran politely.

  "Out of the way or not, it sets an example. The dryland spice traders of Soupat might decide they'd like to be independent. Or the mountaineers near Indyor. The Deforyan Council has already decided to impose exorbitant tariffs on our traders. Who knows what would be next?"

  "Where did they come up with the golds for weapons and ammunition?" asked Alucius. "Does anyone know?"

  "No," admitted Frynkel. "We went through all the trading records, but that doesn't mean much."

  "Not if someone wanted to hide it," Alucius said. "Or if they were smuggled in from Madrien."

  "It is shorter from Madrien, and the Regent of the Matrial will try anything to weaken Lanachrona," mused the marshal.

  "Would these True Duarchists accept weapons from Madrien?" asked Feran.

  "Who's to say that they'd even know where the weapons came from? They're the same standard that we use—not as heavy as those monsters you in the Northern Guard carry—but they could come from any number of gunsmiths. I doubt that the Duarchists care in the slightest." Frynkel followed the words with a dry laugh.

  The more Alucius heard, the more everything seemed to make sense—and the more he felt he was missing something. He decided to follow his grandsire's advice once more, and listen as much as he could and say as little as possible.

  He took another small swallow of the ale. It, at least, was good.

  Chapter 29

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  Early on Tridi, just after the Northern Guard muster, Alucius sat mounted on the gray as Fifth Company formed up on the north side of the courtyard. Eighth Company of the Southern Guard was forming up on the other side, south of the headquarters building.

  Alucius watched and listened while Feran addressed Fifth Company. Mounted beside and slightly back of Feran was the senior squad leader—Egyl—who'd been Alucius's senior squad leader after Longyl had been killed battling the nomads led by Aellyan Edyss. Alucius wondered how many other men he'd recognize.

  "… be leaving shortly, but there will be a brief inspection by Majer Alucius. Full open ranks!"

  "Full open ranks!" repeated Egyl, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Ready for inspection!"

  "Fifth Company stands ready for inspection, sir," Feran reported.

  "Thank you, Overcaptain." Alucius guided his gray along the first rank of first squad, followed by Feran, then by Egyl.

  Alucius couldn't help but note the square-faced first squad scout. "Waris… you ready for this?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  The fifth trooper was also a man he recalled. "Skant. Are you ready for warmer weather than we had in Emal?"

  "Yes, sir… so long as it's not too hot."

  As he rode through the open ranks of Fifth Company, he managed to recall more than a few names and incidents, including Reltyr, who had suffered more than a few problems with an unfaithful wife when Twenty-first Company had been stationed at Emal before the annexation. Although the inspection seemed to take a long time, only slightly more than a half glass had passed by the time he returned to the front of the Fifth Company.

  "That was good, sir," Feran said quietly. "You got most of them."

  "And the ones I didn't will be wondering why I didn't…"

  "Better they're wondering than thinking you don't remember anyone."

  Alucius hoped so. He eased his gray away from Feran. "I'll let the marshal know we're ready."