"I didn't tell her in my letters. Feran said no one thought I'd live."
"And you're walking around now."
"Nightsilk helps."
"Some." Kustyl smiled. "She brought you new sets of nightsilk undergarments. And a new vest. Said even nightsilk couldn't keep taking the beating you gave it." He studied Alucius. "You almost look old enough for this job. Gray hair helps." Then he smiled. "Anyone any younger, the troubles'd kill'em."
"What can you tell me?" asked Alucius.
"Might help if I knew what you know and what you need to know."
"Here's the problem. I'm sure that Weslyn was lining his own pockets, entering higher charges for goods and pocketing the difference. We found three hundred sixty golds in his cellar, mostly the kind that are sent from Tempre—"
"Three hundred sixty? The sandsnake skimmed off that much?"
"I can't yet link the amounts, but that's what it looks like. He also replaced any officers who might question him with captains who seemed to be the younger sons of factors and merchants who sold goods to the Guard. Oh… and he also disbanded the Nineteenth and Twentieth Companies, and I think he pocketed that payroll, but I don't know. I haven't had a chance to go over all the ledgers in any depth. We've been working on letting everyone know about the change in command and that Weslyn tried to kill me." He pointed to the chart on the desk. "Feran and I have been trying to work out which officers to remove, and what senior squad leaders we can promote to captain or undercaptain to take over. We've just about got that figured out, not just who but how and in what order so that we can get someone who's good in charge in the important posts as quickly as we can."
"Your grandsire always thought you'd be good at this. Your mother made him promise not to tell you." Kustyl coughed. "You've figured out what Royalt and I suspected was going on, but there are some things that you ought to know. First off, all the old traders that backed Dysar, then Weslyn, are dead. Except for two. One's Halanat, and the other's Tarolt. No one sees Tarolt much at all. He doesn't trade or factor anymore, and all his business is handled by Halanat's outfit. No one sees Halanat much, either. His son, young fellow by the name of Halsant, is the one who does all the factoring, and he's the head of this new Traders' Council. Probably the youngest of them all, but he's still in charge. He's not much older than you are, maybe thirty, but they all do what he wants. Has to be because Halanat and Tarolt are behind him. Don't know why everyone backs off 'em, but they do."
Alucius nodded. "There has to be some connection with Weslyn."
"Oh… everyone knows they were friends. Ate together, even over at the Red Ram. Weslyn was the friendly type, met and ate with most of the big factors. Already… some of them are saying that you were sent back to break up their trading combine so that the factors from Tempre and Borlan can move in."
Alucius snorted. "From what I've seen, the southerners can't even handle trading in their own land—in lower Lanachrona, I mean. Those that can are more worried about what's happening in Deforya and in Southgate."
"Doesn't matter what's really happening, Alucius. You have to deal with what the traders in Dekhron think."
"I know. So what do I do? I'd thought about meeting with them and telling them exactly what happened." Alucius gave a twisted smile. "One problem is that I haven't figured it all out yet."
"Set up a meeting now, but for a week away or so. That way, they'll hold off saying their worst. They'll still talk, but they'll want to know what you have to say before they act."
"That makes sense. What do you think they'll try to do?"
"I don't know. Not for sure. Some of 'em have to be thinking about paying brigands or some of the old-time Reillies to take you out."
"That's a comforting thought. And if I get rid of them, I'll be a highhanded butcher sent by the Lord-Protector."
"After what you did in Hyalt, they're already saying that."
"How do they know what I did in Hyalt?"
"I don't know, but word's out that you butchered thousands of men and turned the city and the trade over to the women."
"The prophet had used Talent to enslave maybe a thousand men into his forces. They kept attacking us, and when they did, we killed them. I'd judge that we killed something like eight hundred. No more than a thousand. We had to turn the city… well… it's really only a big town… we had to turn it over to the women. The men who were left were either ten years older than you or not quite right in the head from what they'd been through."
"Doesn't matter."
Alucius sighed. "I know. Are my choices to try to do what's right and try to survive assassination attempt after attempt, or will I have to wipe out all the factors here in order to have a chance to keep the Iron Valleys from being taken over by the Regent of the Matrial?"
"Regent?"
"She's the one who took over in Hieron. From what I've seen of their lancers, she's even worse than the Matrial was. They've got those torques working again. We did get rid of their crystal spear-throwers, and the Lord-Protector has pushed them back north for now. If I can get the Guard reorganized, we might be able to keep them in check in the north as well."
"In check?"
"With half the captains hardly competent, and without the Nineteenth and Twentieth Companies, I'll be fortunate to do that. Dezyn doesn't know much about training—do you know what happened to Overcaptain Culyn?"
"There was talk about it, say a year and a half ago. They found him dead in the quarters here. Not a mark on him. Figured his heart just stopped."
Why hadn't Alucius heard that? Or had he been so relieved not to be in the Guard then that he just hadn't paid attention?
"You don't think it was that, I take it?" asked Kustyl.
"Looking back… no. No more than Clyon died of the flux."
"You got your hands full." Kustyl shook his head. "Every herder's behind you, but there aren't many of us left."
"You have any more suggestions for me?"
"Don't enter any narrow ways and never leave your back bare. And if you've got any ways to have folks die of flux or in their sleep, Halanat and Tarolt wouldn't be bad places to start." The older herder shrugged. "And don't wait very long. They won't. That's for certain." The lanky gray herder looked toward the closed door. "That'd be all I've got right now. Except to spend some time with that wife of yours."
"I don't need a reminder for that." Alucius smiled as he rose. "You'll let me know if you hear anything else?"
"That I will. Be talking to a few folks I can trust here in Dekhron. Not that many, anymore, but I'll stop by tomorrow."
"Do you have somewhere to stay? We could—"
Kustyl shook his head. "Be staying with Renzor—Mairee's cousin's boy. Works better that way."
"Thank you." Alucius opened the study door for Wendra's grandsire.
After Kustyl left, Alucius took another look at the charts and planned company rosters, but his eyes wouldn't focus on the names or the descriptions. He shook his head and walked back out of the study.
"Sir?" Dhaget looked up from the table where he was sorting lancer files into piles by company.
"If Overcaptain Feran comes back, tell him that my wife just arrived, and that I'm up in my quarters getting her settled in."
"Yes, sir." Dhaget kept the smile off his face, but not totally out of his voice and eyes.
Alucius did not run up the steps to the commander's quarters, but neither was his progress sedate. He found Wendra on the large bed in the main bedchamber, propped up with pillows and feeding Alendra.
After a moment, he eased onto the bed behind her shoulder, then kissed her neck.
She turned her head, and their lips met.
After several very long moments, Wendra eased her head back and readjusted Alendra. "You don't have to act as though every moment will be the last," she said with a grin. "I'll be here for several days, maybe longer." The grin turned to a frown. "How did you get that scar?"
"That was from the prophet."
&nbs
p; "You didn't mention that."
"It didn't seem important." He paused, almost afraid to ask the next question, with his desire to have her in Dekhron for more than an afternoon or a day. "What about the stead?" He kissed her neck again.
"It will do without me for a few days. While I've been with Alendra… your grandsire… he had to take the flock." Wendra shifted Alendra into the crook of her left arm and switched the infant around, readjusting her clothing to let her daughter nurse on her other breast.
"Did he… have trouble?"
"No. He never saw those creatures. Alucius… they're attracted just to you and me. It has to be. Have they ever appeared anywhere besides where one of us is?"
"There were the pteridons of Aellyan Edyss… but, as for the wild ones…no."
"Why are they attracted to us? Because we show more Talent?" asked Wendra, readjusting Alendra in her arm again.
Alendra began to suckle in earnest.
Wendra winced slightly. "She's strong, and she's a little piglet. She must take after you."
"Me?"
"You," she said firmly. "Now… why do those things show up when we're around?"
"That we have Talent might be part of it, but it can't be all of it. They have to be coming from somewhere, and that has to be from wherever the ifrits are coming from."
"Where is that? Is it truly another world, as you said?"
"It must be. There's nothing that looks like those creatures anywhere in Corus, and there never has been, except in the days of the old Duarchy." He paused. "Except maybe the ones that look like black dust-cats." He shook his head. "It's like nothing quite fits. But the soarers said the ifrits were from another world, and so far, what the soarers have said… it's been so." Alucius bent forward and kissed her neck, easing one arm around her.
"Later… dear man. Later. When not every lancer is speculating on what we're doing, and when Alendra is asleep. I've missed you, and I'd like to have some time to enjoy being with you." She turned her head.
Alucius enjoyed the kiss—enormously—even knowing that he would have to return to charts and rosters and other matters. But only for a time, and only until later.
Chapter 111
Hieron, Madrien
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The Regent rose from the wooden armchair set behind the conference table and took several steps toward the north wall of the private study that had once been that of the Matrial. She stopped short of the built-in shelves, filled with ancient tomes that covered the entire wall, shelf upon shelf, running from the floor to the four-yard-high ceiling. A small walnut book ladder rested in the middle of the shelves, a single volume balanced on the third step.
For a time, she looked at the volumes, unspeaking.
Then she turned from the volumes on the shelves and walked back to the conference table, where she reseated herself. Her violet eyes fixed upon the marshal in a purple and green uniform tunic on the other side of the circular conference table. "Have the engineers made any progress with the drawings I supplied?"
"They have yet to discover how to duplicate the crystals necessary for energy storage," admitted the marshal.
"Then they scarcely deserve the title of engineers."
"They have begun to grow the crystals that focus and create the spears. The storage crystals are harder. They are much more complex than those for light-torches, and you know how long it has taken and how hard it has been to create those. Even the…" The marshal broke off.
"Even the Matrial, you were about to say?"
"Yes, Regent."
The Regent offered a cold smile. "I suppose that is fair. She did have more experience than I have at present."
"Do you know how the Matrial became… the Matrial?"
"Changing the subject, are you, Aluyn?"
"Yes, Regent." Aluyn's voice carried a rueful tone. "It seemed wiser."
A sharp laugh was the Regent's reply. "You are honest. I've always admired that."
Aluyn waited.
"I suppose it cannot hurt to tell what I know," admitted the Regent. "There were a few notes that I found. She was not from Madrien. She was born in Aelta."
"She was Deforyan?"
"She was a pleasure girl in the palace of the Landarch, if what she wrote was correct, and then she cut her hair and became a lancer in the time of troubles with the nomads—the old troubles, four centuries ago. She was proficient enough with rifle and blade to survive. Then… according to the notes, she discovered her destiny and brought it with her as she made her way westward…"
"Discovered her destiny," mused the marshal, "and brought it with her. Almost as if it were something she held in her hands."
"I'm sure that she thought of it in that fashion," replied the Regent. "At times, destiny can indeed have a tangible form."
"A tangible destiny? And is that destiny now yours, Regent? Will you soon be the next Matrial?"
"There has been but one Matrial, and that is all that there ever will be." The pale-faced, violet-eyed, and dark-haired Regent smiled enigmatically. "We shall leave it at that, and you will offer great encouragement to the engineers—if they wish to remain engineers."
"Yes, Regent." Aluyn offered a discreet head bow. "I will do so."
"You may go."
Only when the marshal had departed both the study and the Regent's private quarters did the Regent stand. She left the study, then crossed the main sitting room and stepped through the arches and out into the enclosed garden.
The Regent glanced at the row of daisies, green and seasons from flowering, before turning to light upon the miniature redflower tree in the northwest corner. Her violet eyes darkened.
Abruptly, the small red flowers browned, then dropped onto the dark soil of the narrow flower bed. In turn, pointed olive green leaves darkened, blackened, and fell. The smooth brown trunk blackened in turn, and, but for an instant, blue flames played over the blackened remnant of the ancient miniature tree. Within moments, all that remained was a circle of black on the soil.
The Regent smiled coldly, then turned and left the enclosed garden.
Chapter 112
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Wendra had persuaded Alucius that she could stay a few days, and that she could certainly look over the ledgers to give him a hand while she was there. He had not protested excessively strongly about either proposition, and he had enjoyed Octdi greatly, taking more time off from his work than he should have.
On Novdi, when he came upstairs for a quick midday meal, he saw that Wendra had laid out three ledgers across the single couch, open at different points. She sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs, burping Alendra.
"Alucius… there are things really wrong with these ledgers…" Wendra looked up, a smudge of dirt or ink over her left eye. She rose, holding out Alendra. "I need to show you."
Alucius took his daughter, still amazed at her, for so many reasons. Already, Alendra's lifethread was close to half green, a promise of strong Talent, yet she was still so small, or so it seemed to him, no matter how often Wendra told him that she was good-sized for a child less than two seasons old. And her eyes—a deep green with flecks of gray. Over the years, Alucius had not seen many infants, but never had he seen one so young with eyes of such strong and striking color.
Wendra picked up the first ledger and carried it to where Alucius could see without setting down Alendra. "This is the one for outpost supplies. That's what it seems to be. Look at these lines here."
Alucius looked, taking in the words: Cooperage, fifty full barrels [slack/oak].
"The barrels… that was what caught my eye. Father never charges more than a silver a barrel for slack cooperage—that's for oak. The Guard is paying two silvers to Halanat and Sons, but they're buying from Father at less than half that."
"A tidy profit—more than five golds for just that one lot of fifty barrels."
"It's worse than that," she said. "Father has asked to bid on barrels. He's always been told that his bids were too high."
"But he sold them to Halanat for what, less than five golds, and Halanat resold them for ten?" Alucius shifted Alendra higher on his shoulder.
"The ledgers don't say what price Halanat got. Between Weslyn and Halanat they skimmed off more than five."
"How many times has this happened?"
"There are five times that I've found in this ledger. I don't know that I've discovered them all. Or even most of them. There are also some purchases of buckets and some flour that look like the same thing. I can only trace the things where I know the costs."
"Still… just on the five-barrel lots, that's more than a half year's pay for a colonel."
Wendra grinned. "Do you get that? We could buy another cam and get a better outbreeding."
"You don't get the bonus on my pay anymore." Alucius wasn't sure about that, but he doubted that the Lord-Protector would pay it once he was back in Dekhron, even if it happened to be looking almost as dangerous as battle duty. He frowned. That was overstating matters.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I was just thinking that… well… no one's going to like what I'm finding. Even after the golds Weslyn was hiding."
Wendra set down the first ledger and brought a second one over. "All this feed. It comes from a grower named Aluard in Fiente. The amounts are twice what we pay for it for the town sheep, and we're paying for almost a hundred vingts of cartage when we buy it in Iron Stem. The Guard can't be paying but half that, not if it's coming from Fiente to Dekhron. And there's a lot more feed sold to the Guard than barrels."
Aluard—that was the name of Yusalt's brother. Were there two Aluards who were growers in Fiente? Somehow Alucius doubted it.
"Weslyn had more than a few ties to Fiente. I'd wager that any oil the Guard bought was purchased on the same basis."
"What will you do?"
"For now, I'll have to meet with the factors and traders and tell them about what Weslyn did and suggest that it appears as if he pocketed a great deal. I'll probably have to let it go at that—unless I find evidence otherwise from here on in."
Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters Page 50